Children of Time, Ep 4: The Manhattan Conspiracy
by Wholmes Productions
Summary: Holmes and Watson are now official Companions, but the journey for all is only beginning. The TARDIS lands in the one place on Earth, in the one point in its history, that the Doctor would never have chosen to visit... Standalone/sequel to "Gridson".
1. Los Alamos

**==Chapter One: Los Alamos==**

_The past is never where you think you left it._

– _Katherine Anne Porter_

The Doctor was feeling better than he had in a very long time. He had actually slept sometime in the last forty-eight hours, and he was simply happy. He had two wonderful Companions, and he could dance around the TARDIS for joy.

Well, technically, he _was_ dancing, whirling around the console as he piloted his girl. "All right, so! Burning Man Festival—brilliant event, all kinds of things to see. If I've got it right, we'll be in 2010!"

Watson smothered a yawn, rather heavy-eyed from their late night. (Ain't no ball like a coronation ball—Charles II's, specifically, in 1660. Whatever else could be said of the Stuarts, they certainly knew how to party...) "Just as long as there's coffee."

Holmes grinned teasingly. "So which was more exhausting, Watson—dancing the night away, or resisting the advances of half the female courtiers?"

Watson glowered back half-heartedly, obviously too tired to put much _oomph_ into it, then blushed. "I'm not at all sure," he muttered, "it was only the women..."

The TARDIS beeped merrily. The Time Lord flashed a mischievous grin at the human doctor. "Awww, 's all right, Watson—Holmes's just jealous."

Holmes snorted in amusement as the TARDIS shuddered to a stop. Watson just smiled. "So _where_ are we, this time?"

The Doctor straightened up, beaming. "The Black Rock Desert in Nevada, USA. So!" He spread his arm invitingly towards the doors. "Shall we?" This was going to be great—two purely fun events in a row, no earth-shattering disasters...

His boys (he was already thinking of them as "his," and that, too, was brilliant) grinned at each other, then headed as one for the doors. Pulling one open, Watson said lightly over his shoulder, "I'm _assuming_ no actual people are set on fire during..." He must have caught something in Holmes's expression, because he trailed off and turned forward. "What the devil...?"

The Doctor peered around them, eyebrows skyrocketing. "Ohhh, sorry!" It was a small supply room, shelves full of cleaning materials. "Must've overshot a bit..." He rushed to the door and craned his neck out. "Looks a bit... not 2010, at first glance." He was no expert on cleaning products, but the ones here did not look like they came from a twenty-first century Walmart, that was certain. He smiled sheepishly at Watson. "Let's check it out?"

Holmes stepped out first and tried the door, which swung open onto a deserted corridor. The three of them filed out into it, taking in the surrounding area. The walls were army green, that was certain, although the Doctor had seen so many different army greens in his lifetimes that he couldn't quite place it right away. Still, military. Not so good dropping into a military base unannounced...

The windows provided a harsh vista: bunkers, barracks, corrugated iron Quonset huts—all under a dusky blue-violet sky and mid-twentieth century floodlights.

Holmes arched an eyebrow. "I hate to sound finicky, Doctor, but this doesn't seem terribly festive."

Watson's expression was uneasy—of course, army surgeon. Could recognise even a future military base—it wasn't as if they ever lost their stark nature. "Doctor," he murmured, "where are we?"

The Doctor frowned and donned his specs, ignoring Holmes's lips twitching and Watson's odd look, moving over to the nearest window. "An American military base," he mused aloud. The spelling on the warning signs always gave it away. "1940s, too, by the looks of it. But which state?" He _had_ been aiming for the American desert, and it looked as if they had landed there.

He pulled out the sonic and did a quick scan of the air. "Radiation levels a bit higher than normal—not enough to be dangerous, but..." His eyes widened as he realised what he just _said_. Radiation, military base, American desert, 1940s... "Oh, no. Back to the TARDIS, now. C'mon." He was striding back towards the supply room door when men in army green quickly flooded the corridor, guns leveled at him and the boys.

"Don't move!" one soldier barked. "Hands in the air!"

The Doctor lifted his hands slowly, brows drawn over wide eyes. It wasn't as if he'd never been caught in a military base before—rather, it was that it'd happened far too many times. Holmes and Watson followed suit, Watson sighing resignedly and murmuring, "Doctor, is anyone _ever_ pleased to see you?"

"Madame du Pompadour was," the Doctor muttered back, pouting. It wasn't his fault that his TARDIS always managed to land them in the worst fixes possible!

* * *

Watson had to admit that, aside from the fine detail, military standards of the future weren't noticeably different from when he'd served. He wasn't certain whether or not to be glad of that, although they hadn't received any overly rough treatment – yet. They'd been thoroughly searched on arrest, the Doctor choosing to simply hand over his coat rather than have the pockets emptied – heaven only knew how long that would have taken! – then quick-marched to the office of one General Groves, where they'd been silently sitting under the watchful eye of four armed guards for the last half hour.

Finally, to the doctor's mixed relief, the guards snapped to attention and saluted as a heavily built, square-faced man entered, followed by a taller, thin man with spectacles and a receding hair line. Watson had been doing his best to decipher the various uniforms and insignia, but he didn't need any of that to tell him that this was General Groves; everything about the man shouted 'stiff-necked commanding officer'. He just managed to refrain from saluting himself; his own army days were far behind him – in every sense of the phrase – and it would only lead to awkward questions he didn't dare answer without knowing more about when and where they'd landed. What was it about this place that had the Doctor so tense?

Groves seated himself behind the desk, looking them over with an expression of acute irritation. "All right – who the hell are you three, and what the hell are you doing here?"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at the general's tone, then stated slowly and deliberately, "I'm Dr. John Smith, and these are my colleagues, Mr. Vernet and Dr. Walker." Holmes and Watson nodded respectfully, faces serious, Watson suppressing a wince – was that the best alias the man could come up with for himself? Unfortunately, they'd had no opportunity to agree on any kind of back story, so he and Holmes would simply have to follow the Doctor's lead; hopefully with more success than they'd had with Will Shakespeare.

Groves frowned, clearly not buying their assumed names for a moment. "I'm a busy man, 'Dr. Smith'; I don't have the time or patience to rake through a pile of bullshit. I have other people for that..." His eyes flickered meaningfully towards the guards. "If you don't want to talk to them, then you'd better be straight with me." He leant forward, eyes and voice cold. "I'm only going to ask once: who are you working for?"

The skin tightened around the Doctor's eyes as he opened his mouth to answer, but before he could utter a word, the door opened again and in strode a blonde woman in her mid twenties, wearing a lab coat over civilian clothing. "For the British government, General," she said crisply, eyes narrowed, "so you're going to stop snarling at them right now."

Her gaze met the Doctor's, softening slightly at the Time Lord's patent astonishment. "Dr. Smith, you didn't lose your identification, did you?" Why was the Doctor staring at the young lady like that – did he know her or not? For his part, Watson was merely grateful to have someone else in their corner. Whatever was being guarded so zealously here, sentry duty was dull as ditchwater when you got right down to it, and the young men behind them would probably be only too glad for the chance to indulge in a little 'light conversation'.

"Identification..." The Doctor returned to himself abruptly. "No, no! Got it right here." Still looking a trifle stunned, he fished the psychic paper out of his jacket pocket, which seemed to have miraculously escaped the earlier search, and offered it to the General. Watson sighed internally – couldn't the man have saved them all some trouble by producing that half an hour ago?

Groves plucked the paper from the Doctor's hand with a frown, inspected it closely, then blew air through his nose in deep annoyance, lips thin. "Miss Bennett, we're already on an extremely tight schedule. I'm sure you can guess how thrilled I am at having to take time out for this!" The frown became a heavy glower. "You can make me a very happy man by promising me I won't be seeing these three clowns in here again!"

Watson was impressed: the young woman's expression never faltered, but her hazel eyes could have melted steel. "They'll be working with me, General – I can assure you that they won't take up any more of your time. Gentlemen, if you'll follow me, please, I'll debrief you." Watson was more than happy to obey. The Doctor retrieved his paper, and the trio followed their rescuer, who halted at the door and glanced back at the General. "And, sir, if you wouldn't mind remembering I have a PhD. in physics?"

Groves graced her with a sarcastic nod. "My apologies, _Doctor_ Bennett..."

* * *

Groves' eyes were suspicious slits as the four filed out. "Nichols," he muttered to his aide once he'd dismissed the guards, "tell Major Barnes I want a full background check run on those three. And find out who let them in without following protocol and throw the book at them... no, make that the whole damn library! 'John Smith'..." snorting scornfully, "and I'm President Roosevelt!"

* * *

Holmes had been observing Dr. Bennett with keen interest since she'd entered Groves' office. It was evident that the young woman knew who they were, particularly the Doctor. She knew how the psychic paper worked, and the familiarity in her expression indicated that she had actually met all three of them, although he and Watson certainly had yet to meet her: an idea he might have had trouble accepting before their encounter with Queen Elizabeth.

Like his first meeting with the Doctor, however, he was unable to deduce much more about her, besides the obvious: s_traight blond hair in a neat bun at the nape of the neck; the same lab coat worn for several days, yet still remarkably clean; shoes and clothes sensible and well maintained, with several neat self-repairs; horn rimmed spectacles in top coat pocket, used solely for reading – no pronounced indents on her nose and no trace of a squint._ It all added up to a vague picture of a highly intelligent female trying to remain unnoticed by appearing entirely ordinary – he'd used that method himself many times when tailing a suspect.

The woman strode swiftly ahead of them through a maze of corridors, annoyance at the General's condescension written plainly across her back and shoulders. The Doctor kept up with ease as he shrugged back into his returned overcoat, eyes still wide with apprehension. "Ah, Dr. Bennett, where are we go–"

"In here." She led them into a smaller office and closed the door, sinking into the chair behind the desk with a sigh. "Sorry about that." Holmes pricked up his ears as Dr. Bennett's mid-Western accent was replaced by Queen's English; the woman's tension was also rapidly fading, her gaze turning softer. "To be fair to the General, he _is_ under an enormous amount of pressure, but even so..."

Watson and the Doctor were now staring openly at her; Holmes wondered if they had managed to discern any more about their host than he had.

Dr. Bennett folded her hands and gazed at the trio steadily. "Well, seeing as how I've just saved your hides, pretty literally, I think it's only fair that you help me out with something I've been looking into."

The Doctor's eyes hardened. "Sorry, no. We shouldn't be here." Personally, Holmes would have considered that a reasonable bargain; he could well imagine how badly Watson would have fared under interrogation with his old battle scars.

The woman nodded calmly. "No, you shouldn't be, but you are. You know where you are, don't you?"

"Yes." The Doctor's expression was grim.

Holmes sighed. "Not all of us, Doctor," he said pointedly, not bothering to clarify which one, his frustration at the continued lack of data now audible. "If it would not be too much trouble?"

Dr. Bennett leaned back in her chair, exhaling heavily. "Welcome to the Manhattan Project, gentlemen. The world is at war, and the United States of America is looking for a way to end that war on the Pacific Front."

"A way that's going to wipe out millions in seconds."

The woman's haunted eyes met the Doctor's accusing stare. "The only alternative is a full-scale invasion of Japan, Doctor, and how many more millions would be lost?"

The Doctor's eyes burned. "Is that how you sleep at night?"

"I don't sleep," came the flat response; Dr. Bennett's eyes were wide with anger and barely concealed pain. "And how can you even _ask_ me that question in the first place, Doctor?"

The Doctor's stony expression didn't alter, but Holmes saw the fire slowly fade from his eyes. The detective, on the other hand, had been listening to the exchange in growing horror. All of the earlier physical and verbal clues had suddenly come together:

_...radiation levels higher than normal... the map hanging in Groves' office, showing Los Alamos in the middle of the New Mexico wilderness, miles from the nearest town... extremely tight schedule... PhD. in physics... the world is at war... millions in seconds..._

...and Holmes now knew what this facility's purpose was.

He glanced over at Watson, who looked equally aghast, gazing at Dr. Bennett in deep sorrow and compassion; his friend had also arrived at the correct conclusion. Watson had been a soldier, knew better than most that a larger stage and improved technology led to bloodier conflicts and uglier weaponry... but what appalled Holmes most on the doctor's behalf was the date. This global war was only two generations removed from their own, at best; Watson would have delivered infants in his former practice who would almost certainly be out there now on the front lines as grown adults...

"Doctor..." the detective murmured gravely, "this is a Fixed Point, isn't it?" He could think of no other reason for the Time Lord's impatience to leave without trying to intervene in such a horrific turn of events.

The Doctor nodded wordlessly.

Dr. Bennett met Watson's eyes and looked down hastily. "Please, Doctor." The voice was soft with weariness. "I need help... and you three are like a godsend." She looked up again, her own eyes pleading.

"What's wrong, then?" the Doctor asked quietly.

"Personnel are going missing all the time. Everybody thinks they're just reassigned, but to where?" The woman spread her hands helplessly. "We've been dealing with power drainage and outage... minor sabotage... which has been caused by foreign spies, but the _spies_ just disappear, too."

Watson frowned. "Well, who is normally responsible for reassigning personnel? A facility of this kind runs on paperwork – someone must be taking care of any incriminating documents."

Holmes held up a hand to forestall Dr. Bennett's response, eyes gleaming in approval. "An excellent point, Watson, but you are jumping ahead slightly." He turned to the Doctor, voice a serious murmur. "Doctor, if Watson and I are to avoid being a liability, then we will need a brief history lesson, so to speak. What exactly does this Fixed Point entail?"

The Doctor glanced at Dr. Bennett, then at his companions, then back again. "Would you mind excusing us for a mo'?"

The young woman nodded, rising from the desk. "Five minutes. I'll be out in the hall."

* * *

The Doctor waited for their enigmatic hostess to disappear before turning to his Companions and perching on one clear spot on the desk. He didn't know what disturbed him more: the fact that the woman knew him and he didn't know her, or the fact that someone he would know (presumably well) in the future would be involved in the Manhattan Project.

"All right," he said gravely, clasping his hands together. "We're sitting on a game-changer right now. America is about to open Pandora's Box, because this won't _just_ destroy millions of lives—it'll change warfare forever. From now on, it will be about bombs and missiles and who has the best tech on them—and it all starts here. The repercussions of what they're doing right now will end this war _and_ will have consequences for centuries to come. It will never be the same."

His frown deepened. He avoided learning the gritty details of all wars (except for the one he was dragged into), because he knew the knowledge would only sicken him. Conventional historical wisdom held that... "Dr. Bennett is right: it is a choice of evils. It's millions of lives in an instant or _thousands_ of millions over a long, dragged-out invasion. The way it works is that they do have to perfect this bomb and use it—for most of the human Companions I've ever had, this is simply history to them." As impersonal as the Anglo invasion of Britain or the burial of Pompeii...

"And the test is tomorrow," Holmes said softly, his expression impassive.

The Doctor nodded. "'Gadget'." He exhaled forcefully and ran a hand through his hair. "To be honest, I'd much rather leave before I'm tempted to do something stupid." He'd been so young, so very young and pretentious, when he told Barbara that you couldn't change history, not one line. And when you travelled throughout all of history, the temptation to do so never went away—it only ever grew stronger.

Watson snorted explosively, looking thoroughly disgusted. "You'd be joining an extremely long queue!"

Holmes glanced at his friend, his expression now cautioning. "But these missing personnel—I gather their disappearances should not have been part of that chain of events?"

The Doctor pursed his lips—good old Holmes, the voice of reason that, sometimes, no one wanted to listen to... "Probably not, no." He met the man's gaze, noting the determined look in his eye. "You're set on this," he said quietly, "aren't you?"

Holmes paused, glanced again at Watson, who met his gaze steadily, then looked back at the Doctor. He gave a single, silent nod.

Sighing, the Doctor nodded back. "All right, then." He opened the door, leant out, and caught sight of Dr. Bennett, who turned to him, her posture radiating apprehension. His expression softened: whoever she was and whatever she was doing, she was obviously someone who trusted him and needed his help. He didn't deserve that trust—he never did—but that didn't mean he couldn't try to. He gave her a faint, sad smile and an inviting nod.

Her troubled expression cleared, hazel eyes widening a little, and she returned to the room.

"Well," the Doctor said, once the door was closed again, "I think some official introductions are in order, hm? I'm the Doctor, this is Sherlock Holmes, and this is Dr. John Watson."

The young woman smiled slightly, her eyes passing to each man in turn and lingering on Watson just a bit. Hm, interesting. Holmes was undeniably the "pretty boy" of the pair, but Watson wasn't at all bad-looking, himself—he _was_ the ladies' knight in shining armour, after all... "Dr. Kit Bennett. It's a pleasure to meet all of you," she said, and turned back to the Doctor. "And a relief. I'm a physicist—" she glanced smilingly at Holmes— "not a detective."

Watson returned the smile and bowed. Ah, true Victorian chivalry—rare, but it did exist and the living proof was before them. "The pleasure is ours, Dr. Bennett."

Holmes also smiled back, arching an eyebrow full of meaning—no doubt on how a "mere physicist" hadn't even blinked just now at meeting two supposedly fictional characters from fifty years in the past. After all, Holmes might not know it, but the Basil Rathbone films were currently in vogue. "Indeed... Now, as Watson suggested earlier," he said briskly, "let us begin by having a word with the personnel officer."

"Right. Give me a moment." Dr. Bennett reached into her desk drawer and removed a pistol from a harnessed holster, checked its magazine, then slipped the harness over her shoulders, concealing the whole ensemble beneath her lab coat. The Doctor watched, thin-lipped but holding his peace for the moment: he doubted she'd listen, anyway, and... she seemed responsible, despite being here in the first place. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his Companions exchange a grave look with each other. Watson was probably wishing for his own service revolver.

Well, this was certainly going to be interesting...

* * *

**Author's note from Ria:**

Yes, folks, we're back! And no, we're not going to tell you who this mysterious woman is, you'll just have to wait and see... (A reminder to all those jumping to conclusions: she's a physicist, not an archaeologist! =P)

**Author's note from Sky:**

Squee, we're here! Of all the episodes thus far, this one is my favorite! I can't tell you how excited I am for this episode—because if I did, I'd end up giving stuff away! (Re the "physicist not a detective" line, yes, that's a nod to Dr. McCoy. ;D )


	2. Complications

**==Chapter Two: Complications==**

"_Everyone is looking for the answer. They do not want to find the answer, trust me. Unfortunately, the answer will find them. Life—it's like one of those unpleasant nature documentaries. To be the cameraman instead of the subjects, eh?"_  
– Laird Barron, The Imago Sequence and Other Stories

Although the sitting room of 221B had often been snowed under with paper, Holmes could freely allow that the personnel office was in a class all of its own – filing cabinets crowded the walls, and towers of overflowing manila folders teetered on every flat surface, including the floor. A harassed-looking lieutenant – Sean Adams, according to the plaque on the door – was seated at a tiny school desk in the middle of the chaos; he glanced up as they entered, smile friendly but strained.

"Evening, Doctor," he greeted, then swore under his breath as the decrepit typewriter he was battling with jammed, a frequent occurrence judging by the clerk's well-worn expression of loathing.

Dr. Bennett nodded back in evident sympathy, her American accent back in place. "Lieutenant."

"Mind if I take a look at that?" The Doctor stepped forward, gesturing at the typewriter. "Might be able to fix it."

Adams' eyes widened. "Could you?" The young man sounded almost pathetically grateful, all but scrambling out of his seat to allow the Doctor a little more space to work. "I swear, they should have smuggled one of these contraptions out to every army office in Germany. The war would have been over without a shot being fired!"

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, muttering something that sounded like: "Not a bad idea..." Producing an ordinary screwdriver from his pocket, he bent down and started poking and prodding at the machine, putting his ear to it every so often.

Dr. Bennett hid a smile, tearing her attention from the Doctor's activities. "Lieutenant, this is Doctors Smith and Walker and Mr. Vernet – they're on loan from the British government." She turned towards Holmes. "Mr. Vernet, here, is looking into our missing personnel problem."

Adams straightened and saluted for the first time since they'd entered. "Yes, sir."

Holmes nodded crisply, intrigued by the faint look of relief in Adams' eyes, wondering idly what the psychic paper might have shown the clerk: MI6, perhaps? "At ease, Lieutenant. Let's keep this informal for the time being."

The Doctor began to take the typewriter apart, carefully and systematically; this was clearly child's play to him. "Don't mind me – I'll try not to make too much noise..."

Adams fell gratefully into a more relaxed stance. "Then if I may speak freely, sir?"

Holmes nodded invitingly. "By all means, Mr. Adams."

Adams' voice lowered, tone earnest. "It's about time _someone_ came down to sort this mess out. Terminations, reassignments, transfers – that's normal, you get that in a place like this... but this many? I've been filling out forms on various personnel every few days for the last three months." The young man shook his head, frowning. "And that alone wouldn't worry me, if I'd ever actually seen any of them! Not one of those people have come in here since then for so much as a lost P.E..."

Holmes tilted his head at the unknown acronym, but it was Watson who kept him from having to inquire. "P.E.?"

"Personal effect," Adams elaborated. "You'd be amazed at what some folks leave behind in their lockers."

"I wouldn't be..." came the Doctor's offhand murmur.

Dr. Bennett raised her hand to her mouth to hide a brief grin, turning back to Adams. "Well, who's authorising it all? This isn't exactly my division, but I do know that you can't have something like a transfer without it coming from a higher-up."

Adams hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the closed office door, then bent to pull a file from the bottom of one of the stacks with the ease of a magician removing a cloth from a tableful of china. Holmes was most impressed, however, by the folder itself: identical to all the others save for the neat label: 'Spare Tax Return Forms'. The young man obviously knew a thing or two about camouflage – fortunate, as the file was full of thin sheets of carbon copy, duplicates of paperwork previously filled out.

"That's the second thing that concerns me, sir." Adams pointed to the upper right corner of the top sheet. "The authorisation code on all of these documents isn't on any other official records – I've no idea whose it is. I asked Major Barnes about it once at the start – casually, it's never a good idea to look curious in this line of work, not at my pay level – but all I got was a verbal softshoe. And believe me, sir, I ought to know what _those_ sound like, I've filled out enough C.O.'s tax returns over the years..."

Holmes' lips twitched. He swept his gaze swiftly down over each document, searching for any patterns or common factors, letting his subconscious do most of the work... and his lips tightened as he suddenly spotted a possible connection. "I gather that you don't have any close family in this part of the country, Mr. Adams?" he asked casually as he continued to scan. He'd already deduced that Adams had an older brother, but as he had once told Watson, one could sometimes gain far more information through contradiction.

Adams' brow furrowed. "Actually, I do, sir, begging your pardon. My big brother, Tim – he runs the general store in the nearest town, White Rock. Is... that a problem, sir?"

"On the contrary, Mr. Adams," the detective smiled. "I should say you were extremely fortunate. I myself don't get to see my own brother nearly as often as I would like." Despite Mycroft's pomposity, his younger brother was usually more pleased to see him on those rare occasions than he would ever admit to anyone else.

The clerk relaxed, smiling in sympathy. "Well, I'm luckier than most here, that's for sure. Getting leave to go off base is like getting a straight answer out of a lawyer. At least my family's close enough to make it worth doing all the paperwork every so often..."

All five stiffened at the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor. Taking his cue from Adams' look of alarmed recognition, Holmes swiftly closed the file and slipped it into the nearest stack an inch from the top, moments before the door opened. The lieutenant stood to attention and saluted as a sharp-featured officer with thinning brown hair strolled in, a file of his own under one arm, eyebrows raising at the unexpected crowd.

"Major," Dr. Bennett greeted neutrally, also straightening. Holmes' ears pricked – so this was Major Barnes. His eyes flickered sideways. Interesting... Watson had had to repress the impulse to salute Groves and Adams, but his arm wasn't even twitching this time.

Barnes nodded back. "Dr. Bennett," glancing curiously at the newcomers. "I take it these are the men on loan from England?"

The Doctor looked up, face impassive. "That's us, yeah. H'llo." He finished tightening the last screw on the typewriter, smiling at Adams. "There you are, better than new."

Adams nodded stiffly at the Doctor, mindful of his superior's scrutiny. "Thank you, sir, much obliged." At Barnes' nod, he seated himself back at the desk and resumed typing, tentatively at first, then gradually relaxing as all continued to go smoothly.

Barnes' gaze swept the group. "So... did I miss something? Is there something wrong here? Aside from the typewriter, that is."

Holmes stepped closer, murmuring coolly, "Not at all, Major – but now that your clerk is finally able to process my associates' particulars, perhaps you and I might step out for a moment and reduce the crush a trifle." He arched a meaningful eyebrow. "A crowded office is hardly a setting for civilized conversation, don't you agree?" Time to find out if his first impressions of the man were accurate – and whether his own interrogation technique was up to snuff in a different century.

Major Barnes eyed Holmes askance, but murmured back, "I suppose so." Once out in the corridor, the man's look of suspicion rapidly deepened. "I'm sorry – your name is...?"

Holmes leaned casually against the wall. "'Vernet' will suffice for now, Major..." He favoured Barnes with a knowing smile. "Although a man of your experience surely understands how meaningless a name can ultimately be – not to mention rank or title."

Barnes shifted slightly, uncertain of how to interpret Holmes' enigmatic air. "Yes. Of course. Uh, so may I ask what you came down here for?" cracking a slight smile. "Don't get many crowds down here, you know."

"Indeed," Holmes nodded, smile still in place. "Most convenient, I should imagine, for a busy man such as yourself. Fortunately, my own duties usually only require me to deal with a few select personnel at any one time – so much simpler in keeping apprised of current events."

Barnes blinked. "Ah... good for you." Slowly, "So, what personnel duties bring you here?"

Holmes tilted his head. "Well, perhaps we might assist each other in that regard, Major," he mused. "I understand that this facility has been somewhat troubled of late by various technical setbacks." His smile turned sympathetic. "That must be most distressing, considering the circumstances. The hardest part, of course, is determining in each case whom to hold responsible, and to what extent." And if that outwardly innocuous remark wasn't ringing alarm bells in the man's undoubtedly guilty conscience, Holmes would retire here and now.

The major's eyes widened ever so slightly. "Ah, yes. Yes, it is. And, yes, it has been. But I, uh, I thought we had people of our own looking into that? No offense," he added hastily, "but five thousand miles _is_ a long way to come to conduct an investigation."

Holmes didn't have to feign amusement at that comment – if Barnes only knew... "Needs must, Major, with the times as they are..." He allowed his smile to slowly fade. "And at such times, it becomes so much easier to mistake an ally for an enemy, even at close quarters... as you yourself have doubtless discovered over the course of your career."

Barnes' quiet intake of breath was clearly audible to the detective's keen ears. "Yes. Yes, well..." He turned slightly, his eagerness to escape plainer by the second. "I guess I'd better leave you to it, hm?"

Holmes nodded dismissively, straightening up from the wall. "This has been a most agreeable discourse, my dear sir; I hope to have the honour of your further acquaintance." Barnes started to leave, shoulders sagging in relief... and tightening again as Holmes called after him before he'd gotten half a yard. "Oh, one last thing, Major – I should hate to distract your clerk from his work – which particular systems would you say have been most affected by these technical issues?"

Barnes half-turned back towards Holmes; the detective could practically see the man's thoughts racing behind his eyes. "Ah, the coolant systems, definitely. Down in the lower tunnels? One of the most serious spots to be affected, too – vitally important stuff, coolant."

Holmes arched an eyebrow at the sudden rush of information – he had been half expecting yet more evasions. "Quite. Good evening, Major." This time he allowed Barnes to depart, only reentering the office once the man had all but scuttled around the nearest corner.

* * *

Watson observed on Holmes' return that his friend looked as if he was smelling a highly unpleasant odour. The last time Holmes had worn that expression of deep-seated disgust, he'd been consulted by a prominent member of the House of Lords – it had taken the detective all of thirty seconds to deduce most of the prospective client's disreputable private life, and only half that to show him the door.

The Doctor looked up from the retrieved personnel file as Holmes reentered, raising an inquiring eyebrow. Dr Bennett was also eyeing the detective assessingly. "Have an interesting conversation?"

Holmes nodded grimly. "Most enlightening." To the Doctor, "I assume you've noticed the common link?" The Doctor nodded gravely back. "Hardly any of these people have immediate family – or if they have, they're at least half a country away." He indicated the topmost form. "This is the one which roused my suspicions: Mrs. Fiona Sinclair, widowed just three days before her own 'termination', no other known relations..."

Adams was frowning deeply. "Sir... are you saying that someone's _selecting_ these personnel because they're... _expendable_?" His face paled, no doubt remembering Holmes' inquiry about his own family. "Oh, hell..."

Holmes regarded him gravely. "Your brother may very well have been all that has kept you from your own 'reassignment', Lieutenant – although that may not be the case for much longer, now that Barnes knows of this inquiry."

Adams gave him a dour smile. "Is that a subtle hint to get clear before the fireworks start, sir?" The clerk's chin was tilted at a very familiar angle. "Sure, I might be just a pen pusher, but I took the same oath as every other soldier here. I'm not going anywhere without a direct order..." tilting his head consideringly, "and somehow I doubt you've actually got the authority to give it." He nodded politely at Watson. "I know _you_ do – Major? – but your face tells me you're not going to."

The Major in question didn't bother hiding his approving smile, Adams' perception was on par with his initiative. It was a great pity that Watson's former rank held no sway here; he would have gladly recommended the young man for a well-deserved promotion in short order.

Dr. Bennett had set her teeth as the conversation continued, smiling sadly. "Yeah, but take care of yourself, kiddo, okay? I mean it: if you're not leaving, then be hair-trigger paranoid. You'll live longer."

"Don't worry about me, Doctor." Adams smiled back at Kit, winking. "I fill these things out in triplicate, remember?" The lieutenant had still _more_ copies hidden away? Good man...

The Doctor leant forward and rested his chin on his fist. "So, where to now?"

"According to Major Barnes, the coolant systems in the lower tunnels have been the most targeted by saboteurs." Holmes looked over at Adams questioningly, who nodded. "A tenuous lead, perhaps, but it's the only one we have." The detective paused, glancing at Dr. Bennett in resignation – the young woman's expression stated clearly that she had no intention of being left behind. "I strongly suggest that we exercise extreme caution while investigating, however. Barnes wouldn't have mentioned the tunnels without a reason."

Watson hummed thoughtfully. "So either he's trying to get us out of the way, or there's something he _wants_ us to find..."

"Well... if you like, sirs," Adams suggested casually, "I might be able to keep the Major busy up here while you're down there," smirking faintly. "Tie him up in red tape for a couple of hours?"

The Doctor inclined his head approvingly. "Sounds like a plan."

Dr. Bennett sighed. "And still be careful."

* * *

The lower tunnels were fairly unremarkable, long and low-ceilinged and concrete, with the usual metal pipes and fluorescent lamps that flickered and buzzed. The Doctor had his sonic out and at the ready for whatever in the universe was down here. Just behind him, Kit Bennett had her revolver drawn and as ready as the sonic, and Holmes and Watson brought up the rear. He was sure they looked like a professional team—for which profession, he didn't know, but still. Holmes and Watson were as professional as you could get, and Dr. Bennett...

Dr. Bennett looked more like a soldier than a physicist. No, that wasn't quite fair—she just looked far more _deadly_ than a scientist. The way she held herself now suggested _assassin_ more than physicist—whoever she was, she'd had _training_. And she knew him in his future.

He couldn't stop dwelling on that. She knew him. He was ostensibly a friend, a close one. And they'd met out of order. Of course, when you time-travelled, you could expect things like that to happen, but the odd thing was that... it really hadn't happened all that much to him. Somehow, he'd managed to meet most people in the right order...

There was a map on the wall at the next intersection. Watson came up close to study it, and said, "So do we actually have any idea of what we're looking for?"

"I have a feeling," said the Doctor, "we'll know it when we see it." He glanced at the detective of their group. "Holmes?"

The grey eyes were unfocused in thought. "Well, we do have several potential witnesses on this level..." Holmes tapped a finger on the map, over the nearest communal break area. "Watson, remember Robert Stockman?"

Watson frowned in puzzlement, then his expression cleared. "Oh, yes... wasn't he that petty blackmailer?"

Holmes nodded. "Who entrapped his victims by going through their dustbins..."

Watson groaned. "Must we, Holmes? Heaven only knows everything that is thrown away down here!"

Holmes smiled ruefully back. "Precisely."

The Doctor couldn't help grinning, because watching the two of them interact just never failed to be enjoyable, adorable human beings as they were.

Kit muffled a snorted laugh behind her free hand. "Sounds like fun to me."

Holmes grinned apologetically at Watson, then turned to Kit. "Welcome to our world, Dr. Bennett. I'm afraid most detective work isn't nearly as neat or glamorous as Watson relates it to the general public."

Kit's smirk lost its mirth at his words. The smirk itself did not fade, but... a sadness filled her eyes, and the Doctor realised. It was _1945_. The Great Detective and his Boswell had been born in the 1850s... the math was _far_ too elementary. Despite possessing two hearts, the Doctor found that he couldn't breathe.

They followed the floor plan, very quietly, to the "staff room," finding the 1940s' equivalent of a trash compactor. "Looks as if it hasn't been emptied for a while," Watson said dryly—"how fortunate."

The Doctor couldn't deny it was a bit icky, but it hardly took them long at all to catch sight of something green and faintly glowing. "Oh, look, here we go!" He pushed the trash around and out of the way to get to the source of the glow.

"Doctor," Kit said hurriedly, "that could be radioactive."

"I don't think it is, actually..." Certainly hadn't set off the sonic.

He reached for it, but Kit beat him to it, wearing lab gloves and pulling out a globular, glowing green mass, smaller than an adult human head. "Oh." Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, it's organic. Doctor, this is _organic_."

The Doctor frowned and bent down to be eye-level with Kit's hands. "What _are_ you?" he breathed. It looked literally like a small bundle of nerves—_gooey_ nerves that definitely smelled dead, but nerves nonetheless.

His Companions leant in to see better, both pairs of eyes wide. "Well, it clearly isn't human," Watson said, frowning, his nose wrinkling at the stench. "And I'd say it's been decomposing for quite some time! Where the devil has it come from?"

"I don't know." The Doctor put on his specs, started a scan with the sonic, and, with his free hand, dug around in his pockets for a stethoscope. "At a guess, though, genetic engineering."

He glanced up just in time to catch Kit's eyes closing, her breathing slowing. He tucked it away for future reference and put his stethoscope on the blob. He'd also noticed Holmes visibly reigning in some reactionary impulse—given their first adventure, he couldn't blame him. Watson, on the other hand, had shaken his head, looking completely appalled, undoubtedly at the casual disregard for this little lifeform that had been created down here.

The Doctor returned his attention to the stethoscope, listening intently. "Fundamental DNA type," he murmured, "four six seven dash nine eight nine. Nine eight nine." He stopped, forgetting to breathe again. "Hold on, that means planet of origin... Skaro." He lifted his head slowly, heartbeats thrumming painfully, and met Kit's own stunned gaze.

"The Daleks," she whispered. "But... Doctor..."

The Doctor surged to his feet, towering over her. Had she been playing him for the fool all along? "What do you know about the Daleks?"

She stepped back, radiating concern. "Enough," she said quietly. "I know about the Time War."

The Doctor's gaze flickered to his Companions: Holmes looked... _horrified_... and Watson was frowning deeply. He then returned his attention to Kit, unrelenting. "How."

She shook her head. "I can't." He saw heartache in her eyes, heard it in her tone. "I can't tell you. Not now. Please."

"Indeed not," Holmes murmured worriedly, suddenly tense. "Doctors, we have company..." He jerked his head almost imperceptibly backwards.

Both tunnels were blocked by half a dozen armed men in American uniform, standing straight, weapons low but ready, faces expressionless. Watson swore under his breath, and the Doctor was tempted to follow suit.

He turned fully, instead, to face the newcomers, fire in his eyes. "I think we just found our missing people," he murmured, then gritted his teeth. He whispered his next words, but he wanted to scream them, because no matter what or who he _sacrificed_, it was never enough: "You always survive, while I lose everything."

Kit had set down the blob and removed her gloves, and she slipped her hand into his. It felt like Rose's. He glanced at her in bewilderment, then turned back to look each soldier in the eye. In the empty, empty eye... "Hello," he said simply, tonelessly.

The lead soldier responded just as neutrally. "Greetings, Doctor. Our masters desire an audience. You will follow us now."

He clenched his jaw but nodded shortly, striding forward with Kit's hand still inside his. Holmes and Watson began to follow, but other soldiers raised their weapons.

"You alone are required, Doctor. Your companions will be processed."

The Doctor stopped short, eyes blazing. "My Companions are going with me," he said in a hard voice. "If your masters know me, then they know that I'm not letting them go." Not again, not this time!

"We have our orders, Doctor. If you resist, they will die."

"Doctor... do as he says," Holmes said quietly. "This is not the time or place to argue."

The Doctor whirled around, eyes wide. "Sherlock, I'm not leaving you!" He couldn't! Not again... not again...

"Remember the lab?" the detective said pointedly. "Don't waste time..."

Negotiate with the master, not the slave. And hurry.

The Doctor's breath came out in a rush. He closed his eyes and nodded before turning back to the soldiers once more. "All right," he said quietly, giving Kit's hand one comforting squeeze before letting go and stepping forward.

The lead soldier and one other flanked him and escorted him back to the lift where he and his little team had started. His doubts over Kit had vanished the moment she'd slipped her hand into his. She knew. _Falling through space, clinging to the skin of this tiny world_...

On the other hand, he could scarcely begin to untangle his emotions regarding the Daleks. He was angry, certainly. Angry... concerned, even scared, for his Companions... but... more than anything, he supposed he felt an immense sense of despair. All the centuries he'd been fighting the Daleks... believing them destroyed in The Moment at last, along with all of Gallifrey... only to find first Van Statten's Dalek, then the Emperor and his armada, then the Cult of Skaro with their Ark... and now... _again_... And the losses since the Time War had been steadily growing.

He would not sacrifice anyone today. Not this time.

* * *

**Author's note from Ria:**

If anyone's wondering why the Daleks aren't using pig slaves, ask yourselves just how inconspicuous those would be on a military base! Personally, I never understood why they were like that in the original episode...

**Author's note from Sky:** Yeah, it seems something of a "big-lipped alligator moment" for the show, probably to provide the angst with Lazlo. But we've got _plenty_ of angst of our own devising to replace that! (Also, I just want to say that all the guessing going on over Kit's identity is more fun than I thought it would be! :D )


	3. The Time Lord

**==Chapter Three: The Time Lord==**

_From the ashes a fire shall be woken_

_A light from the shadows shall spring_

– JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

After being searched for the second time in as many hours, Dr. Bennett's firearm quickly found and confiscated, the three humans were surrounded by the remaining soldiers and escorted in the opposite direction to the Doctor. They turned into a short side passage, which appeared to be a dead end, but the wall slid open as they approached and closed just as silently after them.

Holmes noted that this new tunnel was even more stark and featureless than the one they'd just left. He hesitated to use the term 'alien' to describe an atmosphere, but that was exactly how it felt here: utterly clinical and impersonal, without a trace of human warmth, an impression made all the stronger by their guards' blank faces and synchronised tread, each step falling in perfect unison.

Another few twists and turns brought them to a holding area, manned by more soldiers. Compartments on both sides of the long room contained a number of humans, civilians and soldiers, all penned together behind barriers of shimmering blue light. Holmes saw grimly that their own arrival had sparked no kind of interest from the other captives, slumped or huddled on the floor of their cells, or even a glimmer of hope – the terror and despair in this room was almost a tangible thing.

As they came to a halt, another door slid open at the end of the room, and in glided... Holmes stared – what the _devil_ was that?! The approaching object looked like nothing so much as a gigantic gold pepper pot, the lower panels studded with half-spheres. The top third was circled by a horizontal grill, with what seemed to be a glowing blue mechanical eye on the end of a long stalk. Below that were two more protrusions, one greatly resembling a sink plunger, and the other... Holmes tensed as he recognised the second instrument – he had last seen one in the hands of the K'vir-possessed Professor Warwick – which had to mean...

"Good God..." he heard Watson breathe. "I gather that's a Dalek?"

Dr. Bennett nodded, expression grave.

"More spe-ci-mens are nee-ded." The twin lights atop the Dalek flashed in time with its deep, grating monotone, although raising slightly in pitch on the last syllable. "The next ten pri-so-ners will be pro-cessed."

"That was well-timed..." Holmes muttered grimly. And where the hell was the Doctor?

As they were herded into line with another seven prisoners from the cells, Dr. Bennett turned to Holmes, murmuring urgently, "Just protect your friend, all right? Don't bother with me – no matter what happens, keep Dr. Watson safe."

Holmes frowned – the idea of leaving anyone, especially a female, to fend for themselves in these circumstances went against every one of his instincts. Before he could respond, the young man next in the line – a chemist, judging by the stains on his tattered lab coat – turned to Dr. Bennett. "Kit!" he whispered. "Oh God, they got you, too?"

Before the young woman could respond, the Dalek extended its sucker towards the face of the first prisoner in line. "Intelligence scan. Initiate. Reading brain waves." During the brief pause, Holmes could sense the sudden riveted attention of every other prisoner in the room. "Low intelligence. This one will become a slave."

Two soldiers grabbed the man by the arms and hauled him away through the door, struggling desperately. "No, don't, _please!_ Don't make me one of them!"

Dr. Bennett's eyes were wide with horrified fury. "It's okay, Doug," she whispered back. "I'm going to get us out of this, all right? What's going on, do you know?"

"We're divided into two groups: high intelligence and low intelligence." Doug swallowed hard. "The low intelligence are taken to become brainless soldiers like _them_..."

Dr. Bennett squeezed Doug's shoulder, her gaze sweeping the room, taking in every detail. "Okay. It's okay, Doug, you're smart – that's not gonna happen to you." The young man didn't look at all comforted.

By now, the Dalek had moved to the third person in line. "Intelligence scan. Initiate."

Holmes took a deep, calming breath. _Hurry, Doctor..._ "And the others?"

"They're taken to something called 'the Final Experiment'."

Dr. Bennett exhaled sharply. "The blob. Oh my God – Holmes, I'll bet you anything that that green blob was an _embryo_, an artificially-birthed Dalek _baby_."

"Superior intelligence." The Dalek had advanced to the fourth prisoner. "This one will become part of the Final Experiment."

Watson's eyes burned, but kept his composure enough to ask quietly, "So these things _are_ organic? Which means what we're seeing is merely an outer shell, a... suit of armour?"

Holmes nodded, greatly impressed by Watson's coolheaded reasoning at such a moment. "But if they're trying to breed their _own_ kind... why would they need humans for more than slaves?"

Dr. Bennett bit her lip. "Well, look, they want superior intelligence, right? That's one of the few things in the universe that the Daleks actually value. Intelligence, a final experiment, a previous _failed_ cloning experiment..."

"Kit!" Doug hissed over his shoulder, eyes full of barely-controlled terror. "It's getting closer!"

Kit squeezed his shoulder again. "Just be brave, Doug, okay? Do that for me? I'm gonna get you out of this, I promise – just hang in there."

Holmes closed his eyes, battling his rising nausea as he made the connection. If Watson had also reached the same conclusion, he was keeping it to himself this time – a wise idea, actually, Doug was already panicked enough.

The Dalek finished scanning the sixth prisoner, a young corporal. "Low intelligence. This one will become a slave."

The soldiers stepped forward to take hold of their terrified colleague... who suddenly snapped, lashing out wildly.

"No!" Dr. Bennett shouted as the youth wrenched himself free and ran for the door. He barely got halfway before a screaming whine sounded... The remaining prisoners could only look on in horror as the corporal stiffened, his body lit up with sickly blue light, then crumpled to the ground.

Holmes didn't blame Doug in the least for the whimper that escaped his throat. The detective remembered all too clearly the moment when Cheng Wei had fallen to a Dalek laser – the hybrid smith's survival had been nothing short of a miracle.

Dr. Bennett stepped around Doug, eyes blazing, her voice hard and ringing with a sudden authority. "Enough. That's enough."

The Dalek swung smoothly back around. "His death was necessary. Daleks are supreme. Any who resist will be exterminated!"

"Oh, I don't think so." Holmes and Watson exchanged glances as they moved to flank Doug, the chemist looking as though he were about to faint. The young woman's accent had turned English once again, the devil-may-care gleam in her eye suddenly seeming very familiar... "I'm going to stop you."

"You have no means of stopping us, human." The Dalek's monotone held a distinct note of contempt. "Secure the female."

Dr. Bennett was careful to stay relaxed as two of the soldiers took hold of her arms, never taking her eyes off the Dalek as it extended its sucker towards her.

"Intelligence scan. Initiate. Reading brain waves..." The Dalek broke off abruptly and glided backwards, voice rising. "Alert! Alert! Non-human brainwave pattern detected!"

The young woman smiled enigmatically as her three male companions stared, mouths agape. A moment later, Doug's legs gave out on him entirely, eyelids fluttering shut. Holmes and Watson just managed to catch him by the arms as he collapsed, lowering him gently to the ground, mercifully unhindered by their captors.

"Mm-hmm. Run a DNA scan on me – see what you find."

The Dalek seemed to hesitate for a split second before advancing once more. "Initiating genetic scan. Analysing. Conflicting data. Analysis inconclusive." The voice was sounding increasingly agitated. "What _are_ you, female? Explain! _Ex-plain_!"

Dr. Bennett gave a mirthless smirk. "I'm a Time Lord."

* * *

The Daleks' set-up was pretty much the norm for them, an impressive feat considering that they did it right beneath _the_ Manhattan Project. Definitely an inside job. He strode into the control room, chin high, eyes still stormy, tone falsely cheerful. "H'llo, I think somebody wanted to see me?"

Two golden Daleks flanked a black one that looked as if a tempest were raging inside it. "Silence, Doctor!" one of the gold Daleks snapped. His eyestalk swiveled to his brother. "Report."

The Doctor snorted in grim amusement at having been told to shut up by a Dalek. And not just any old Dalek—this was, without a doubt, the Cult of Skaro.

"Dalek Sec is in the final stage of evolution," said the other gold one.

"Scan him," the first said. "Prepare for birth."

Wait, _birth_? ...the hell? Alarmed, the Doctor frowned at Sec and demanded, "What 'evolution'? What are you _doing?!_"

"You will bear witness, Doctor," said the second. "This is the dawn of a new age."

"We are the only four Daleks in existence," said the first, "so the species must evolve a life outside the shell. The Children of Skaro must walk again."

Dalek Sec's shell powered down, smoke seeping out, and hissed open, revealing... something that could only be a human-Dalek hybrid, dressed in a male suit. The head greatly resembled a Dalek body, bearing one eye and protuberances that must have come from Dalek nerve tentacles... and it had a mouth. The hands were claw-like, as deformed as the head. It had the body of a human, the body that was just now unfolding itself from the shell... but everything else, apparently, was Dalek. It was... actually disturbing. The Doctor wondered who had died to give Dalek Sec that body.

After a moment, he raised both eyebrows. "Genetic mutation—oh, that's fitting. And clever. All right, I'm impressed—very good."

Sec seemed a bit dazed, but he lifted his not-inconsiderable head to meet the Doctor's gaze. "Doctor... the Cult of Skaro escaped your slaughter." His voice rasped, and the Doctor couldn't trace the accent just yet. But... for the first time in Sec's life... he didn't have to scream...

The Doctor's eyebrows lifted further. "And here I thought I'd been _preventing_ a slaughter. So, this is your grand plan: a combination of human and Dalek. But... isn't that going against Dalek philosophy?" Honestly curious, he turned to the other two. "Hmm? How do the rest of you feel about that?"

"Dalek Sec commands, we obey."

"We were created to follow him. The Daleks must survive!"

"You are the last of your kind, Doctor," said Sec, "...and now I am the first of mine."

Oh. Oh, _very_ low blow. "And what are you going to do with that, Sec?" The Doctor's eyes narrowed, steely. "How do you feel?" Time to put his favourite race to the test, and if they didn't come through on this one, he'd just resign and retire to somewhere like Apalapucia.

"I... can feel... humanity."

The Time Lord's eyes lit up in spite of himself. "And what is that like, hmm? What does it feel like to be part human?"

"I... can feel... everything we wanted from mankind... ambition, hatred, aggression... and war." The rasping voice was filled with wonder. "The human who was joined with me—he had such... a genius for war."

The Doctor's eyebrows lifted again. "Oh, but there's so much more to humankind." _Come on,_ he silently begged of whomever had been sacrificed to give Sec his body. _No one is ever alone their entire lives. You had family; you had friends. You loved—or you felt the need to_. Please... "There's appreciation for beauty." He looked Sec in his large, utterly alien eye. "There's love..."

The Dalek hybrid looked back calmly. "And of what use are those things to a Dalek, Doctor? Such emotions are irrelevant to our plans."

_Irrelevant to your plans, yes... but to _you? "Then you've achieved absolutely nothing with your grand operation," the Doctor said quietly. "How did you end up in 1945?"

"Emergency Temporal Shift."

"Oh, that must have roasted up your power cells, yeah?" The Doctor turned, took a few steps forward, and looked around. "Time was, four Daleks could have conquered the world, but instead you're skulking away, hidden in the dark, experimenting." He took a deep breath, still pleading with the human genes woven in with Dalek DNA. "All of which results in you. So what do you want with me, then?"

"We tried everything to survive when we found ourselves stranded in this ignorant age." Sec's matter-of-fact tone made the Doctor feel as if he was being courted by a businessman. "At first we tried growing new Dalek embryos, but their flesh was too weak."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed—the sight of that little globular Dalek baby, cast aside into the dark and the cold... was going to haunt him for a long time to come. Even to their own, the Daleks were cruel... "Yeah, I found one of your experiments." Some of his anger bled into his voice. "Just left to die out there in the trash."

"It forced us to conclude what is the greatest resource of this planet—its people." Sec lifted a switch on the wall, and the ceiling above them lit up to show hundreds of human bodies lying suspended. _Hundreds_. They couldn't all be personnel—there were too many. Some of them had to be Axis spies...

The Doctor found his chest aching. So many lives lost, lured down into the spider's web and caught...

Sec lifted another switch, and one of the shrouded bodies lowered. "We stole the humans for our purpose..." He pulled the shroud down to reveal Fiona Sinclair. "And your companions should join them soon." His tone turned gracious. "They are strong specimens and will be valuable additions to our new race."

_Over my dead body_... The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "I think you of all people understand the importance of maintaining timelines." Daleks were Time-sensitive, after all—artificially, not to the degree that Time Lords were, but Time-sensitive, nonetheless. Only one Time-sensitive race could fight another in a great Time War... "My Companions have to go back into this world's past to live out the rest of their lives—it is imperative that they be allowed to return to their own time."

Sec looked at him in what he could only call _bewilderment_. "And yet, Doctor, you were the one to choose companions with such temporal significance..."

He heard the unspoken question and bristled at it. He wasn't stupid—he _knew_ what would happen if they died, and he'd been doing his best to keep that from happening! But as he opened his mouth to speak, another Dalek's voice sounded on the overhead speaker. _"Alert! Alert! Non-human brainwave pattern detected!"_

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Non-human... But that would mean... Kit Bennett," he breathed, and turned to Sec. "Please, I need to see this. I. Need. To see this."

Sec frowned, apparently intrigued. He turned to one of his brothers and said, "Display a visual for the holding cells."

The gold Dalek activated a nearby monitor, which revealed a view from a Dalek eyestalk camera as said Dalek advanced towards Kit with his sucker extended. Holmes and Watson protectively flanked a prone young scientist who was starting to stir. _"Initiating genetic scan," _said the Dalek on-camera. _"Analysing."_ He was sounding increasingly agitated. _"Conflicting data. Analysis inconclusive. What_ _are you, female? Explain!_ Ex-plain!_"_

Kit smirked and said quietly, _"I'm a Time Lord."_

The Doctor truly forgot to breathe for several seconds, the last words of the Face of Boe running through his mind. "That," he whispered, "...that's... not possible..." Even as he said it, he realised how much those four words, Kit's four words, explained about her. "She..."

Holmes and Watson looked thunderstruck.

"_Another_ Time Lord," Sec said softly, almost reverently. "By the Emperor...!"

"_Negative,"_ the camera Dalek said flatly. _"This is a deception. The Doctor is the last of his kind. The Daleks have scanned him many times before. Your genetic structure does not compare with a pure Time Lord."_

Kit smiled slightly, a smile that the Doctor suddenly realised was a mirror image of his own, when facing an enemy... _"I didn't say I was." _As Kit spoke, the young scientist revived and sat up, then struggled to his feet, helped by Holmes and Watson. His expression was terrified, but his gaze was fixed on Kit and full of concern._ "I wasn't born on Gallifrey—I was born after the Time War. I'm every bit as English as the Doctor's current Companions. I'm a hundred years old, and I have been with the Doctor back and forth across Time and Space in the TARDIS."_

Something hot and powerful surged up in the Doctor as he saw the truth in Kit's face: he was not alone, somehow, not the last of his people... A tear rolled down his face almost before he realised it. "Dalek Sec," he said softly, "please... don't kill her."

He glanced sideways to see Sec doing the same and looking mildly confused. The hybrid opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Kit's next words.

"_And I know exactly who __you__ are: you're the Cult of Skaro, the survivors of the Time War and the Battle of Canary Wharf. You're trying to bring your race back." _Her tone turned taunting. _"I__sn't it ironic that you now need mankind for that? Your future Daleks won't be pure Dalek any more than I'm pure Gallifreyan."_

"_But we will survive. The Daleks will remain supreme! Your impurity is of no use to us, female. You will not be converted. You will be exterminated!"_

"_NO!_" the Doctor screamed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sec reaching for the communication relay, far too late.

The young man surged forward. _"No, don't!"_

The camera Dalek's laser fire hit the scientist squarely in the chest.

"_NO!"_ Kit screamed. _"No! Doug! No!"_ She struggled in her captors' grip, to no avail—Holmes and Watson were equally helpless, held at gunpoint by the other soldiers. _"No..."_ She began to shed silent tears.

The Doctor couldn't tear his gaze away from the monitor if he wanted to. "Please," he murmured. "Stop this."

He could hear the Dalek training his weapon back on Kit. _"Extermin—"_

"Stop!" Sec's voice rang with an authority that no Dalek could ever manage from within a shell. "I command you. Stop."

"_I do not understand. We do not need the female alive."_

"I have decided she will be spared, and you will obey me."

"_I... obey."_

"Bring her to me..." The Doctor turned to see Sec glancing at him sideways again, expression unreadable. "...and the two humans, also."

The camera Dalek turned back to the three companions. _"You will follow."_

Kit stared past her tears, bewilderment written on her face. _"What?"_ Of course... she couldn't have heard the conversation between the two Daleks—it would have been audible only inside the one Dalek's casing.

The Doctor looked right into her hazel eyes through the Dalek's video-eye feed. Hope whirled inside him: hope, confusion, concern, desperation... a driving need to know the mystery behind the new Time Lord... Time _Lady_... "Thank you," he said quietly, wincing. The words left a sour taste in his mouth: Sec was still a Dalek—just how human he was remained to be seen... And the Doctor hadn't forgotten Gallifrey. Or Satellite Five. Or Rose...

* * *

"Release them."

The breath Watson had been holding left his lungs in a rush as the soldiers obeyed – the Doctor must have been able to intercede, and not a moment too soon.

"The three of you will follow me." The Dalek led them back the way they'd come, as two of the soldier slaves gathered up the bodies of Doug and the corporal, carrying them off through the opposite door. God only knew what use these creatures would have for a human corpse...

Watson left Holmes' side, taking advantage of their being permitted to walk freely, and fell into step beside Kit. The doctor had no idea what he could possibly say to comfort her, but he did know he couldn't just let her suffer alone – how many times had _he_ been forced to watch a comrade fall?

To his surprise and relief, Kit wordlessly reached out and slipped her hand into his. Watson smiled kindly, heart aching to see her trying to return it and failing, her eyes anguished as she ducked her head. The poor, brave child...

* * *

**Author's note from Ria**: So, think you've got it all worked out yet? Heh-heh, not a chance! Still plenty of surprises left, especially about Kit!

**Author's note from Sky:** As for _moi_, I was on fire, writing my scene for this chapter. There was so much happening, so much emotion... it was fantastic! As for Kit... well! Just you wait!


	4. Best Laid Plans

**==Chapter Four: Best Laid Plans==**

_But little Mouse, you are not alone,  
In proving foresight may be vain:  
The best laid schemes of mice and men  
Go often awry,  
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,  
For promised joy!_

– Robert Burns, To A Mouse

Sec turned away from the monitor. "This death... was regrettable, Doctor. Your kinswoman's colleague, he showed courage. He would have made an excellent Dalek."

The Doctor frowned, thoroughly uncertain now of what Sec wanted. "He _was_ brave. And that's... good?"

"Yes. Your words to me earlier, Doctor... their meaning has since become clearer." The hybrid beckoned as he returned to the body of Fiona Sinclair. "And what they might mean for our race. This Final Experiment—I believe it has... far greater potential than I previously envisioned."

All right, so Sec was sounding infinitely more sane than Davros, but he was still making the Doctor uneasy. "What do you want to do?"

"These people are empty shells now, stripped of all that made them who they were, ready to be converted into human-Dalek hybrids." The Doctor had figured as much, but hearing it stated so factually made his stomach churn. "I am the genetic template; my altered DNA was to be administered to each human body."

The Doctor frowned heavily. "And you're piggybacking off of all the work here on the atomic bomb."

Sec nodded and pulled up the specs of an energy conductor. "A strong enough blast of gamma radiation can splice the two genetic codes and wake each body from its sleep. When the humans aboveground detonate the bomb, the radiation will be drawn to the conductor..."

"And the army will waken," the Doctor finished grimly. "I still don't know what you need me for." They'd done a pretty good job thus far, and if their military strategy was good enough, the warring human race could fall in a matter of weeks.

Sec's expression was earnest. "I need your genius, Doctor. Consider a pure Dalek: intelligent but emotionless."

The Doctor eyed the hybrid, trying desperately to figure him out. It wasn't working—Sec was sending him all manner of conflicting signals. "Removing the emotions makes you stronger. That's what your creator thought, all those years ago."

"He was wrong."

The Doctor blinked and did a double-take, certain he hadn't heard that right. "He was what?"

"It makes us lesser than our enemies. We must return to the flesh... and to the heart."

The two gold-cased Daleks swiveled to look at each other—the most concern the Doctor had ever seen from any of their kind. "But," he said carefully, "you wouldn't be the supreme beings anymore."

"And that is good," said Sec.

"That is incorrect," one of his brothers said immediately.

"Daleks are supreme," the other added.

Sec did not turn to them, his single eye fixed on the Doctor. "No, not anymore."

"But that is our purpose."

Sec turned then. "Then our purpose is wrong!" The Doctor stared, wide-eyed at the openly confrontational turn this conversation had taken. "Where has our quest for supremacy led us?" The hybrid's tone turned bitter. "To this. Hiding underground on a primitive world. Just the four of us left. If we do not change now, then we deserve extinction!"

The Doctor frowned. "All right, then, let me get this straight: you want to change everything that makes a Dalek, a Dalek."

"If you can help me." Sec's tone was humble—such an incredible range of emotions he was experiencing in the first half-hour of his new life... "Your knowledge of genetic engineering is even greater than ours. The new race must be ready by zero hour, or all our efforts will have been in vain."

The Doctor's head was pretty well spinning by now. "But _you're_ the template. I thought they were getting a dose of you."

"I want to change the gene sequence, increase the percentage of human DNA. Humans are the great survivors, Doctor; we need that ability."

He couldn't argue with that, but... He shook his head and raised a cautionary hand. "Hold on a minute. There's no way this lot are going to let you do it."

"I am their leader," Sec said primly.

Riiight. As if the Dalek Civil War had never happened... The Time Lord dragged a hand down his face. "All right, all right. Let's say you can manage it all. What happens next, hm? Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?"

"You have your TARDIS. Take us across the stars. Find us a new home and allow the new Daleks to start again." Softly: "If you don't help me, Doctor... nothing will change."

The Doctor bowed his head. It sounded so good, so wonderful—a fresh beginning for a race that had been birthed in evil... And yet the origins of _this_ hybrid race were scarcely less evil, kidnapping and emptying people to be shells for the process. And these were the _Daleks_.

And yet... Sec... the look in his eye was... hopeful...

And his purer brothers stood silent, watching. Brothers whom the Doctor could certainly not trust, whether or not he could trust Sec...

But a fresh beginning.

He knew only too well what it was like to crave that.

He nodded slightly, murmuring, "Well, then... Lots to do—not much time in which to do it."

Sec's expression was grateful. "We have forty-five Earth minutes—the test detonation is set for 4 am."

"Then we have plenty of time," the Doctor said drily.

The nearby lift stopped on their floor, and the fourth Dalek exited, followed by two humans and a Time Lady, who were themselves flanked by soldiers. The Doctor's breath caught in relief, hearts pounding a prayer of gratitude to whomever might hear, and he strode over to them. Holmes and Watson were trying—and failing, since the Doctor had noticed—not to stare at the transformed Sec.

Kit slowly let go of Watson's hand, her gaze flitting back and forth between the Doctor and Sec, eyes sad.

The Doctor reached his Companions and placed his hands on their shoulders. "Are you all right?" he murmured.

Holmes smiled gravely. "Still in one piece, Doctor—thanks to you and Dr. Bennett."

The Doctor turned to Kit then, wonder surging through him. "And you," he breathed. "Time Lady. How didn't I notice it sooner?"

Kit smiled sadly, the expression not even reaching her eyes. "I've learned to hide my light under a bushel, Doctor. The fault isn't yours." Then he felt it. For the first time in a long time... he felt the brush of another Time Lord's mind against his own. The touch was light and gentle and soothing, and he could have wept—too many emotions and he couldn't... couldn't...

The Doctor shook his head slowly, pulling himself back together, and tentatively reached out, grasping her slender shoulders. "Look at you. You... Who are your parents?"

She shook her head, eyes closing. "I can't. Doctor, I just can't." She opened her eyes and whispered, "And you can't do this."

He frowned incredulously. "Of course, I can," he murmured back. "The Daleks—"

"Aren't going to change!" Her entire being radiated urgency. "Doctor, I'm from your future! I've seen the Daleks there, too, and it doesn't get any better. It never does."

"Time is in flux, Kit," he said firmly. "Can't you _feel_ it? That future doesn't have to happen."

"No," she said sorrowfully. What had happened to her to make her so sad? "No... some things don't _have_ to be Fixed Points... to be set in stone."

Sec chose that moment to step forward. "Dr. Bennett… I understand your hesitation." His voice sounded… _sad_… "You have good reason to distrust us, after all that our races have done to each other out of fear and hatred." He spread his hands entreatingly. "All I ask is a chance to prove that we have the potential to change. Please..."

Kit looked as conflicted as the Doctor had felt a few minutes ago, then she lifted her chin fractionally and glanced at the Doctor. "I suppose, then… that I'm in for the long haul, too."

The Doctor nodded slightly with small, proud smile. "Atta girl. Well, then!" He donned his specs and looked to Sec expectantly.

The hybrid _smiled_—tentatively, it was surely his first. "Thank you."

Kit's eyes widened at the smile, and she quickly turned fully to the Doctor, who was smiling widely himself now. This was good. This was good. "Right!" he said, and rubbed his hands together. "So… first thing's first: chromosomes."

* * *

In spite of the Doctor and Sec's explanation, Holmes could not even pretend to be satisfied with the new situation – and he couldn't imagine Watson was feeling any happier about it, either. The detective had sometimes been forced himself to use questionable means to achieve a positive end, but how could the former possibly justify the latter in this case? Heaven only knew how the Doctor was able to turn a blind eye to this... atrocity – there really was no other word for it! – and work with a race that earlier he had all but admitted he held in complete aversion.

As for the Daleks themselves... Caan, the Dalek from the holding cells, and his brothers, Thay and Jast, were meekly following every instruction – and that very docility was making Holmes incredibly uneasy, given what he already knew of the war between their people and the Time Lords. The problem was that Holmes was having a hard enough time reading Sec, and the Dalek-human hybrid was no longer even protected by a shell.

It was possible that he was worrying needlessly, but the detective hadn't survived this long by ignoring his instincts. He interrupted the Doctor at his work to borrow the spare mobile, then stepped out into the nearest corridor with Watson; his friend was eyeing the mobile curiously, clearly as intrigued as Holmes had been by the idea of a portable telephone.

Closing his eyes to minimise distractions, Holmes visualised Lt. Adams' desk in the personnel office, namely the telephone sitting in the top left corner, with its personal number in the centre of the dialer...

To his great relief, Adams picked up the phone after the first ring, sounding extremely weary.

"Personnel, Lieutenant Adams speaking."

"Ah, Mr. Adams, excellent," Holmes responded, voice lowered.

"Mr. Vernet?" Adams sounded equally relieved. "Thank God – I thought... Is everything all right?"

"Why would you think it was not, Lieutenant?" Holmes asked cautiously. "All is well aboveground, I hope?"

"Honestly, sir, I don't know." The young man's audible anxiety only served to strengthen Holmes' own. "I was able to keep Major Barnes busy for about an hour, but now he's disappeared – and no one's seen him pass any checkpoints. What with this storm and all, I can't help..."

Holmes' eyes narrowed. "Storm?"

"Yes, sir. We've had thunder and lightning for the last half hour, and it's heading south towards the test site. They've had to delay the detonation until it passes – General Groves is fit to be tied..."

Holmes cut him off briskly. "You've done well, Lieutenant, but there's something else I need from you now. Write this number down..." rattling off the absurdly long number for the spare mobile.

The lieutenant sounded understandably puzzled. "Is this... a phone number, sir?"

"If you hear your phone ring once, call that number exactly two minutes later," Holmes continued as if he hadn't heard, "and whatever you do, don't leave the office before then – stay by the phone!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good man." Holmes ended the call, musing wistfully that the young clerk could teach the Yarders back home a thing or two about unquestioningly following his instructions when required...

Watson was frowning deeply. "Holmes, what is going on?"

Holmes had forgotten that telephones weren't designed to enable eavesdropping. "What are the chances that none of the other Daleks knew there was a storm coming to delay the test?" he muttered, half to himself as he searched through the mobile's settings. "Either way, we have to warn Dalek Sec and the Time Lords..." Excellent, that should be a suitable ringtone...

A moment later, a klaxon filled the air. Not stopping to think about the noise might mean, the two men rushed back through the laboratory door... only to find themselves once more being held at gunpoint. Holmes resisted the urge to swear at his own inexcusable carelessness, then raised his hands to the back of his head, the mobile concealed in his palm, Watson astutely copying the action. The soldiers escorted them back to the lab proper, where they found Sec, Kit and the Doctor also held captive.

"Release me," Sec demanded as his brothers advanced. It shouldn't have been possible for a Dalek to glide smugly, but they were giving that impression just the same. "I am your commander. I am Dalek Sec."

"You have lost your authority."

"You are no longer a Dalek." Just how long had Caan been planning this coup?

"This is your one chance for a better future!" Kit's angry frown wavered as she caught sight of Holmes and Watson, shoulders sagging, her eyes filling with fear.

"And he –" the Doctor jerked his head urgently towards Sec, "is your best hope for any real future at all!"

Sec looked utterly stunned. "You have... betrayed me."

"Negative." Jast's voice was contemptuous. "_You_ would have betrayed all Dalek-kind – you meant to lead us away from our Emperor's vision!"

Sec gaped. "The Emperor was insane! His vision was of nothing but death and destruction..."

"Death for the humans alone. We will finish what he began..." Caan swung to face the Doctor, voice accusing, "before your pet human destroyed him!"

"Purify the Earth with fire!" Thay chimed in.

"Purify! _PURIFY!_"

A second alarm sounded, interrupting the Daleks' chilling chorus. There would be no better time than this... Taking advantage of the distraction, Holmes pushed the redial button on the mobile, then hung up again.

"Alert! Alert!" Jast called. "Elevator descending."

Caan moved to the nearest instrument panel. "It is the human slave. Why does he approach? We have not summoned him."

Holmes managed to catch the Doctor's eye. '_Two_,' he mouthed, looking pointedly at the coat pocket which normally held the sonic screwdriver.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow back, giving Holmes the smallest of nods. _Understood_.

The lift reached their level and Major Barnes stepped out, looking even more anxious than he had aboveground.

"Major Barnes." Dr. Bennett's Midwestern accent dripped with acid. "I'd say 'what a surprise,' but in all honesty, it really isn't."

"We do not require your presence, human," Caan said dismissively. "Return to the surface and await further commands."

Barnes had reddened slightly at Kit's accusation, drawing himself up defensively, only to wilt slightly at Caan's order. "But, sir, I think that –" The Major paled as he finally noticed Holmes and the two male doctors . "Oh, no. Sir, I think I made a mistake in sending these men down here."

Dr. Bennett snorted. "Gee, ya _think?_"

"Incorrect. The two human males will make valuable additions to our army. You have served us well, human. Your loyalty will be rewarded."

"Major, listen to me," the Doctor cut in urgently. "Whatever they've promised you, whatever they will promise you, it won't happen. You're not them, and anyone who isn't them is the enemy! Look!" jerking his head at Sec. "Look at what they do to their own!

Still pale, Barnes glanced warily back and forth between Caan and the Doctor. "What will that reward be, if you don't mind my asking?"

"You will be privileged to witness the imminent destruction of the Daleks' greatest enemies! The last two Time Lords will be exterminated!"

Barnes' calculating gaze slid back over to the Time Lords. "Actually, sir..." he mused slowly, "I think I have a better idea. You should save them for the people over at Roswell. They know how to deal with alien threats."

"Oh, that's just brilliant." Dr. Bennett had also turned pale at the name 'Roswell'. "Your survival savvy _astounds_ me."

"Major," the Doctor persisted, "you are not going to survive amongst an army of Daleks hellbent on destruction!"

"We do not take orders from slaves, human! We have awaited this day for millennia, when our Emperor's vision will be realised –" So much for Daleks being unable to experience emotion – Caan's tone could only be described as... _exultant_. "New Skaro will rise from the ashes of the Earth, and the Oncoming Storm will be the first to fall!"

Holmes was still silently counting down: ..._30, 29, 28..._

Barnes took a shocked step backwards; the Doctor was equally wide-eyed, except that his expression closely resembled the storm that Caan had termed him. "Sir, it was just a suggestion," the Major said cautiously. "And if you hate him that much... wouldn't you enjoy having him dissected on an operating table? _Alive_, no less?"

Sec gasped in horror. "No, you can't!"

Dr. Bennett's jaw clenched. "I am going to kill you, Barnes," she bit out, eyes ablaze.

"Kit..." the Doctor murmured in a calming tone.

"Daleks do not 'enjoy'. Such emotions are... irrelevant to our purpose." Except that Caan's voice now held a faint but distinct note of intrigue...

Barnes had obviously heard it as well, giving the Dalek an ingratiating smile. "But if he's been that great an enemy to you... wouldn't you want him to suffer a little for it first if you're going to kill him, anyway?"

Holmes hadn't thought he could possibly grow any angrier until that moment. He and Watson exchanged looks of silent agreement, twin gazes smouldering with grim fury. Fellow human or not, given the chance, neither of them would think twice about putting a bullet through Barnes' head.

He heard the Doctor murmur sympathetically to the Major, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

And then the mobile vibrated in Holmes' hand, a split second before the sound of a massive explosion, loud enough to hurt the ears of anyone standing near.

The next minute was fraught with activity...

Holmes was already starting to move when the phone vibrated. As the soldiers recoiled, shock and pain overwhelming even the Daleks' mind control, the detective turned and levered the machine gun out of the grip of the soldier behind him, using the same movement to club the man up under the chin with the stock end.

The Doctor grabbed the sonic from his pocket and twisted free; Dr. Bennett drove her elbows back hard into her two captors, grimacing in pain at the noise, then brought her hands forward again, holding both soldiers' weapons. Her face was grim as she turned and aimed for the soldiers holding Sec. The hybrid had been completely surprised by the distraction, doubling over with pain, then fell to his hands and knees as his guards were cut down.

Watson had had the best idea of what to expect, swiftly obtaining his own weapon; his stance and hold on the firearm told Holmes that his friend had been keenly observing the soldiers ever since they first landed. The doctor coolly turned and aimed at Thay, whose missing side panels logically made him the prime target, pulling the trigger without hesitation. Unfortunately, the gun seemed to have a stronger recoil than Watson had expected, for the spray of bullets missed the Dalek by a whisker and struck the control panel behind him, which began to spark and smoke profusely.

"Protect the Final Experiment!" barked Caan, gliding in front of the nearest bank of instruments.

"Protect! Protect! Protect!" The other two Daleks hastened to do the same, and Holmes could see some kind of shimmering distortion being raised, like a wall made out of heat haze... which stopped his next bullets dead in the air.

He and Watson retreated to the lift as one, using the doorway for shelter as they laid down cover fire for the other three, concentrating on any remaining soldiers, since their weapons were now clearly useless against the Daleks.

The Doctor scrambled over to Sec, raising the hybrid to his feet and hurrying him towards the lift. Dr. Bennett slipped a small capsule out of her coat pocket and tossed it towards the Daleks, the capsule exploding as it hit the floor, then turned and ran to help the Doctor.

Holmes' eye was suddenly caught by movement to his left. Too late, he aimed his weapon at Major Barnes, who had obviously taken shelter the moment the fire-fight began, the coward; Dr. Bennett dropped to the ground with a choked gasp as the revolver shot rang out.

"_Kit!_" The Doctor's face was a study in horror, but he could do nothing to help her while hampered by Sec's weight. The Time Lord desperately hauled the hybrid the last few steps to safety and turned at once to go back... just as the Daleks recovered and opened fire on the lift... and Kit Bennett reached into the pocket of her lab coat, drawing out what could only be her own sonic screwdriver.

"Kit, no!" But the wounded woman paid no heed, raising a trembling arm and pointing her sonic at the lift controls. The doors slammed closed, the Doctor pounding his fists against them helplessly, as the lift began to rise at a dizzying speed. "No, no, _no!_"

* * *

**Author's note from Ria: **Something we couldn't really include in the story proper - the identity of the man sacrificed for Dalek Sec's rebirth. We chose the historical figure of Klaus Fuchs, a German theoretical physicist, and one of the most successful spies for the Soviet Union. And yes, he actually was spying at Los Alamos during World War 2! Bad luck this time, mein Herr...

**Author's note from Sky:** What can I say? Except... I just love this chapter. So much!


	5. The Power of a Time Lord

**==Chapter Five: The Power of a Time Lord==**

_"Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth."  
_―Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

"The Doctor is escaping!" Caan bellowed. "Reverse the elevator! The prisoners must be recaptured!" The others rushed to assist his frantic attempt to override the female Time Lord's unexpectedly effective hotwiring.

Kit was gasping in pain, weakly trying to raise herself, despite the blood pouring from the twin bullet holes in her left shoulder.

"Here, let me help you, Dr. Bennett..." Major Barnes rushed to Kit's side, grabbed her left arm and twisted it behind her back; the man's eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the sound of her choked scream, cuffing her wrists mercilessly. "Check, Miss Time Lord," he murmured.

* * *

The lift slammed to a halt without warning, throwing its occupants to the floor. The doors opened, then began to close again. Watson jammed the two M1s in-between, and Holmes joined him in levering the doors back open. "Everyone out!" the detective shouted.

The Doctor pushed Sec out and grabbed hold of the M1s—and immediately almost wished he hadn't, because these doors _really_ wanted to close. "Move, you two, now! Don't worry, I'll get out behind you!"

His Companions traded a grim look, then grabbed the Doctor by the front of his coat and _dragged_ him out of the lift, guns and all. "Wha—no! Hey!" He glared at the two of them, then realised the lift was descending again. "Nonononono!" He grabbed at his hair in frustration. "What was that for?! I was going to try to over-override the Daleks' override!" As the words left his mouth, he realised they were only half-true.

And Holmes knew it, judging by his expression. He nodded down pointedly at the sonic. "Well, then…?"

The Doctor sighed and raised the sonic—he couldn't be blamed for not quite thinking straight, what with discovering _another Time Lord_ and then having to _leave her behind_. The emergency brake activated and ground the lift to a halt, but if they wanted to get back in, they would have to use the ceiling hatch.

Watson turned to Sec, hesitant but smiling in concern. "Sorry about the noise, old chap—it couldn't be helped. How are you feeling?"

The hybrid looked stunned yet. "I… I am all right, Dr. Watson," he said slowly. "The pain is… fading. Such pain… pain of the flesh," he whispered, an undercurrent of wonder in his voice, "like no other Dalek has felt for thousands of years…"

The Doctor faced him fully with a grin that was half rueful, half disbelieving. "Yes, well, that's hardly a benefit, Sec, believe me." Eyes widening with a sudden thought, he turned to Holmes. "What time is it?"

Holmes checked the mobile. "Ten past four. Doctor, the test has been delayed—Lieutenant Adams reported a storm moving south. They won't detonate the bomb until it's passed over, although as to how long that gives us…"

The Doctor closed his eyes, feeling heartsick. "Right," he said quietly, and opened his eyes. "Well, then, we've got to stop this thing before we have a really big Frankenstein's monster on our hands."

Sec looked increasingly stricken. "My children," he whispered, head bowed. "I'd hoped to give our people a second chance, a new future…"

Watson placed a comforting hand on the hybrid's shoulder, and the Doctor had the brief thought that Watson was something like the ideal companion for this sort of adventure. He possessed such a great heart… "Don't lose heart, Sec," he said softly. "Perhaps one day that chance will come again."

Sec looked up gratefully at the human doctor, his expression quickly turning sorrowful but resolute. "Perhaps…" Then he turned to the Time Lord. "But you are correct, Doctor. If the gene solution remains pure Dalek and the others repair the damage to the conductor before detonation…"

"Well," Holmes mused, "since stopping the test really isn't an option… it seems our best alternative is to sabotage the conductor further."

Sec nodded—a rather disconcerting sight, considering how large his head was… "Thay's Dalekanium panels are attached to the lighting towers out at the test site—but we'll never travel that distance in time before the storm passes. The connection will have to be severed from inside the lower tunnels."

The Doctor nodded slowly, calculating. "Okay." He bent and picked up the M1s, handing them back to his boys. "This is the last time I do this," he muttered. Then aloud: "I'm going to need you two to be our defence, all right? Don't worry about me: I'll get our sabotage job done. Just worry about the zombie soldiers that are going to be heading up for us."

Watson checked both weapons. "Then we'll need more ammunition—these magazines are almost empty."

The Doctor leant in and put his hand on Watson's good shoulder. "Just find a way. I'm counting on you—on both of you." He nodded at Holmes. "Be safe." Nodded at Sec. "Keep him safe. See you in a bit." He turned and took off down the tunnel.

* * *

As the Doctor left at a run, Holmes and Watson exchanged glances with Sec, bewilderment clear on all of their faces. 'Be safe...' Easy for the Doctor to say, Holmes mused bitterly. How in the world were they meant to hold off a platoon of soldiers – Lord only knew how many were left – all of whom would most likely be armed to the teeth, with only two guns of their own and a mere handful of bullets?

And even if they _could_ manage to do so... Holmes shuddered. It had been hard enough having to shoot down those poor, mindless human drones back in the lab in the heat of the moment, but _this_... He and Watson had been so swift to condemn the war currently raging across the Earth – and here they were now, readying themselves for an equally cold-blooded slaughter... God have mercy on them for this...

He felt Watson's hand clasp his shoulder firmly, and looked up to meet the doctor's eyes, his expression kind, but determined, the ghost of a grave smile hovering at the corners of his mouth. Watson knew, understood all too well... and right now, that look of quiet, calm resolve was benediction enough for Holmes. They might have been more or less thrown into the deepest waters they'd ever swum in – but that was no excuse to simply give in and drown.

Holmes' weary gaze travelled upwards, idly following along the metal pipes that ran the length of the corridor... and then over to the stairwell opposite the lift... then to the fuse box cover only a few feet away.

"Sec," he murmured, "what exactly is in those pipes, do you know?"

Sec gave him an odd look – which, admittedly, wasn't saying a lot. "Coolant, of course – the human engineers always use salt water to keep their machinery from overheating. Effective enough, I suppose, if somewhat on the primitive side..."

The detective's eyes widened. "Watson, Sec, help me to get those doors back open – we need the fire axe from the lift!"

Watson gave him a puzzled frown as they bent to the task. "I hate to sound negative, Holmes..." he grunted, wedging his body in between the doors to hold them apart, "but somehow I don't think a ruptured water pipe is going to be an effective distraction..." then paled as he too noticed the fuse box. "Oh no... Holmes, you can _not_ be serious! Do you have _any_ idea...?!"

"...of the risk?" Holmes squeezed past Watson and dropped down onto the lift. "No, actually – do tell!" he said ironically. "Is it any more dangerous than getting shot at?"

"For God's sake, Holmes, a child wouldn't be foolish enough to do what you're planning!" Watson snapped as Holmes opened the access hatch. "If anything goes wrong, you could electrocute all of us as well!"

Holmes looked back up at him solemnly. "Then pray that it doesn't."

* * *

Kit could not draw enough air into her lungs, despite having two hearts. Her left shoulder throbbed in a white blaze of pain, and she had the distant thought that the wound was terribly ironic. Or fitting. She was in too much pain to decide which.

"They have ascended," said one Dalek. "The Doctor has escaped."

"Then find him!" Caan snapped. "Send out all available slaves! Nothing must endanger the Final Experiment!"

Slowly, breathing grew easier, her shoulder starting to heal itself. She felt her flesh knit itself back together, seal over the bullet wound, entry and exit. Behind her, Barnes swore softly and hauled her to her feet. "What just happened, Bennett?" he demanded. "Hm? What'd you just do?"

She clenched her teeth, her body still tingling with pain, and said nothing.

The new head Dalek turned to Barnes. "What is the status of the female? Report!"

"She just... the gunshot wound, sir: she just healed herself, I think."

Still silent, Kit surveyed the room. Her sonic had been confiscated, and there would be little chance now of getting back even if she could get out of these cuffs. The doors were... not the kind that she could just break down, and she wouldn't have time to hotwire them. Besides, with three Daleks in the room in the first place... never mind the soldiers, their masters would be the ones to cut her down in seconds. Time Lords could slow time around them temporarily, but her past attempts to do so had been futile. She doubted she could do that now, even counting on adrenaline to help her through.

No, best to stay put and keep her mouth shut.

She hoped.

Caan glided closer. "The original Time Lords possessed the ability to regenerate. The initial genetic scan did not indicate the female was capable of this also." He stopped with his eyestalk inches from Kit's face. "What other abilities do you possess, female? Report!"

"I'm a Time Lord," she said slowly, every muscle in her body tensing. "End of story."

"And your regenerative ability makes you of great value to the Dalek cause. The Cult of Skaro has never been able to study a Time Lord with such a unique genetic signature before."

Her hearts began to throb rapidly again. _Doctor, hurry, please! _"Oh, joy to the world. If I'm going to be a test subject, can I at least get coffee breaks?"

"Silence!" Caan turned to his brothers. "Report progress. Is all still on schedule?"

"Affirmative. Repairs 90% complete."

"The storm is moving away from the test site. The humans will detonate the bomb in thirty Earth minutes."

"Acknowledged. Continue to monitor and report." Caan turned to Barnes. "Bring the female." He glided towards the lab, followed by a pair of soldiers.

Kit's breath caught, her instincts screaming at her to fight, her mind calculating that she had very little chance of survival if she did. Barnes grabbed her left arm and marched her none too gently along behind Caan. The zombie soldiers then secured her—wrists, torso, and ankles—to an operating table, while their master powered up some sinister-looking equipment.

One of the other Daleks glided over. "Request information, Dalek Caan. What purpose will studying the female serve?"

"I will scan the female as she regenerates," said Caan in what Kit could only call a triumphant tone. "We will finally learn how the Time Lords access and manipulate the energy of the Time Vortex. Soon, the Daleks will also be capable of regeneration! We will truly be supreme!"

By this point, Kit was tense and trembling, but she glared murder at Caan. "I won't let you use me like that," she gritted out.

"Incorrect, female. You are incapable of consciously controlling your ability, or you would have refrained from regenerating in our presence. You have no means of resisting." She heard a sound like power rising and being sent to machines... "Initiating research. Stage one: acute neural stimulus, commencing."

Her eyes widened. The operating table came alive, thrumming with energy, and she felt the pain along her back, first. It skipped her skin and went directly to her nerves and spread throughout her like fire. She focused on breathing, on memories... Mum and Dad kissing... her siblings playing out on the Downs before the war... Dad's smile...

Inevitably, the memories took her to the one place she did not want to go.

_No, please!_

The wildfire inside her quickly burned up all higher cognitive thought. She gritted her teeth, gasping for breath and trying to resist without letting her body's natural response take over.

Above a red haze, she heard Caan's deep voice. "Your tolerance for pain is admirable, female, but limited. Increasing stimulus levels by fifty percent."

She _wanted_ to beg, because she couldn't... she couldn't... Instead: "My name. Is. _Katherine_." She gave a choked cry as the fire increased and golden light began to pulse through her veins.

"Alert! Time Vortex energy detected and rising! Commence tracking."

* * *

On a higher level, another Time Lord felt a surge in the Vortex...

...and dropped to his knees as searing fire filled his mind, the suffering not his own but broadcast to whomever could feel it...

* * *

She dimly heard another alarm go off.

"Sonic device detected! It is the Doctor!"

"Locate him!"

"The signal is coming from the maintenance tunnels above the laboratory! He is attempting to sabotage the conductor!"

"Send all slaves to intercept! Capture the Doctor and the hybrid Sec alive!"

"What of the humans?"

"The humans are expendable. Destroy them!"

Kit heard them only distantly, her ears filled with her own screams, as regenerative energy worked frenetically to repair the damage even as it was being done. An endless loop. She was... an endless loop...

_Doctor, pleeease!_

* * *

The Doctor heard Kit, but only dimly_. I'm sorry, Kit, I'm coming for you, but I need a clear head for this_… The Dalekanium panels were easy enough to find, but disengaging them… The Daleks had done a thorough job. He couldn't sever the connection, the system was deadlocked.

One of these days, he was going to have to sit down and work out a setting for the sonic that overrode deadlocks…

Then the whole tunnel began to shake, power coursing through the machine.

Almost before the thought had fully formed in his mind, he was thrusting his hand into an open spot in the machine, allowing the gamma radiation to take his DNA…

And then there were two Time Lords screaming.

* * *

Holmes sank to his knees on the flooded floor of the corridor, shaking, head bowed and sobbing for breath – that was his excuse, anyhow, and he would damn well stick to it! He was drenched from head to foot in brine, thankfully making it impossible to tell that not all of the water on his face was from the pipes...

He could barely remember half of what had happened during that last desperate struggle with the remaining soldiers, much less how he and Watson had managed to come through it alive... although the blood staining everything in the immediate vicinity, including them – _especially_ them – told its own ghastly story.

Never again... _never_...

Holmes suddenly realised with revulsion that he was still holding the gun that... that he'd last used to... no, he wouldn't think about that, he _couldn't_...! He flung the sickening thing away, but he couldn't help noticing that it didn't land with enough of a clatter... and his roiling stomach finally surrendered to the inevitable.

He sensed Watson kneeling beside him, one hand supporting the detective's forehead, the other rubbing his back slowly, soothingly, until the spasms had ceased. "Are you hurt, old fellow?" came the gentle inquiry – he could only shake his head jerkily in response.

Watson wrapped his arms tightly around Holmes' trembling shoulders, drawing him close, murmuring, "It's all right, Holmes... it's all right... We're alive, Holmes... alive because of you... They would have killed us, Holmes, you know that... You did what you had to do, Holmes, nothing more..."

Eventually, Holmes was able to look up, giving the doctor a quavering but genuine smile of gratitude – it helped that they both had their backs to the stairwell... then the detective's attention was caught by Sec hesitantly approaching, finally abandoning his post beside the fuse box to hunker down beside the two humans.

Sec seemed even more wide-eyed than usual, his ordinarily dark complexion as pale as Holmes supposed his own must be. The hybrid paused uncertainly for a moment, mouth open, then closed it again, shaking his head in what could only be remorse.

Watson gave Sec a smile of deepest sympathy. "And you mustn't blame yourself for this, either, old chap," he said gently. "It wasn't you who sent..." but he was interrupted the next instant as the ground started to shake, the few surviving lights at the far end of the corridor pulsing with radiance and humming like a hive of bees.

The companions exchanged significant looks, all three grasping what was happening at the same moment: the world's first atomic bomb had just been detonated. But... Holmes stiffened as a sudden, alarming thought occurred. "Watson, if the Doctor was able to sabotage the conductor..."

Watson nodded grimly, finishing the question: "...then why are the lights indicating a power surge?"

Then all three were racing through the still glaringly lit corridors, Holmes forcing himself to set the horror of their blood-soaked last stand aside for the moment – he had to focus on tracking if they were going to locate the Doctor in this maze, although God only knew in what condition they'd find him...

* * *

**Author's note from Ria:** What, you wanted more of a description for the fight scene? As if any specifics we wrote could compare with the sick and twisted imaginations of our readers! Besides, it seemed more important to focus on Holmes' emotions before and after the fight. Too often we fans forget that Holmes, unlike Watson, is _not_ a soldier, and even if he was... Such choices always come with a price, and poor Holmes will paying this one for a long time to come...

**Author's note from Sky:** This chapter was not an easy one to write, emotionally. And please, guys, if you're enjoying this story, and/or if it's shredding your feels... _please let us know_. Tell us! Review! Please! We've invested so much time and energy—mental and emotional—into this story! Let us hear from you, please!


	6. Cain and Abel

**==Chapter Six: Cain and Abel==**

_Time goes by so fast. Nothin' can outrun it. Death commences too early – almost before you're half acquainted with life – you meet the other._

– Tennessee Williams, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Watson had never been as deeply impressed by Holmes' tracking skills as he was now. The detective seemed literally part bloodhound as they hastened through the corridors, picking up on the tiniest of traces, all but sniffing the air; until at last they turned a corner and found – Watson's heart missed a beat – the Doctor crumpled on the floor of the tunnel, unmoving. One hand was clutching the sonic in a death grip, and the other... Watson hissed in sympathy on seeing the reddened skin – it didn't take a genius to work out what the mad idiot must have done. The Doctor's hair was standing straight up, and his human colleague would also swear he could detect a faint scent of smoke.

He and Holmes carefully turned the Doctor over onto his back, and Watson was greatly relieved on checking his pulse to find that both the Time Lord's hearts were beating steadily – the brief time he'd spent so far in the TARDIS medbay had not been wasted. Vowing to put together some kind of compact medical emergency kit for future use, Watson did his best to bring the Doctor round.

A few moments later, there was a soft groan, the Doctor's eyes opening a crack. "Wa'son. Hi."

Watson let out a long, slow breath of relief. "Welcome back, Doctor – do I want to know why you look even more like a thistle than usual?" he forced himself to ask lightly.

The Doctor screwed up his face. "Thistle?" He tried to raise himself, wincing. "Ohh, my head..." rubbing it gingerly as his Companions helped him to sit up. "Ah, ran into a little gamma radiation. Which is good, actually –" he hastened to add, "good thing, trust me."

"Wait..." Holmes looked around, frowning. "Where is Sec?"

"He was with us a minute ago..." Watson paled. "Oh, dear God..." The hybrid must have slipped away quietly while they were tracking the Doctor, and it wasn't hard to fathom the reason.

The Doctor pushed himself to his feet, eyes wide. "He wouldn't've..." but the heartrending look on his face spoke volumes. "Come on!" Holmes and Watson exchanged appalled looks as the trio raced back to the lift; there simply hadn't been time before now to consider what the Doctor's reaction would be when he saw what they'd had to leave behind... but it seemed safe to assume that it would not be pleasant...

* * *

The last of the Cult of Skaro watched while the energy from the collector crackled through the system, the Dalek DNA beginning to transform the hundreds of suspended human shells.

"The army awakes," Caan intoned, no longer troubling to disguise his deep satisfaction. Slowly, the hybrids lowered from the ceiling, discarding their shrouds as they regained consciousness. The altered gene solution had done its work – each new soldier now greatly resembled the disgraced Sec, with a single eye and tentacles protruding from the lower half of their faces.

Caan glided forward and addressed the nearest hybrid. "You will identify."

The soldier formerly known as Fiona Sinclair didn't even blink. "I... am... a Dalek."

"Excellent."

"Begin the invasion. All base personnel will be converted to Daleks," Jast commanded.

"And enhancement will begin on the second bomb." These humans could never have imagined that their solution to ending this pathetic global war would instead bring about their total annihilation.

"Assume battle positions. Take arms." At Thay's command, the hybrids formed ranks and marched past rows of weapon racks, each taking up a machine gun.

Caan glided over to a separate bank of instruments. "War demands strategy. I am designated controller. Connect me to the military computer. I will coordinate all units." The soldier slaves quickly hardwired their master's shell to the mainframe.

"Report status," said Jast.

"Maximum efficiency. I am now ready for full-scale war."

"Control over Dalek-Humans?"

"Connection confirmed. All Dalek soldiers will take heed." The hybrids stood to attention as one. "All weapons will be..."

"Stop!" Sec's voice cut across Caan's as the treacherous hybrid reentered the lab, hands outstretched in desperate entreaty. "My Daleks, I beg you – don't do this!"

"It is the betrayer!" rasped Thay.

"Seize him! Bring him to me!" The soldiers grabbed the unresisting Sec and dragged him to stand in front of Caan. "You were foolish to return. Now you will join the Time Lord female in assisting the Dalek cause!"

Sec looked at his brother imploringly. "Caan, please... there can still be hope for our people, but not like this! Even if the Oncoming Storm does not stop you, the humans will. They always survive, while we lose everything. The only genocide on this world will be our own. Turn back now, before it is too late." The hybrid took a deep breath, staring across to where Kit lay unconscious on the operating table, body still faintly glowing. "But if you must have your vengeance, brother... then let the female go, and I will take her place."

Major Barnes, who had been given the task of observing Kit's vital signs, stared at Sec in disbelief for a moment, then turned his attention back to the monitor. "Sir, her heartbeat is very slow."

Sec's face was a picture of dismay. "What have you done to her?"

"She will live, human," Caan said to Barnes dismissively. "Continue monitoring her status." Turning back to Sec, the Dalek leader went on: "There will be no exchange. The female will allow us to achieve our destiny, and you will demonstrate to the rest of our race the price of treachery!" To the slaves: "Secure him."

* * *

Watson watched the Doctor in deep concern as they dropped through the lift's hatch – his reaction to the 'battlefield' had been even worse than his human colleague had supposed. After one horrified look, the Doctor had doubled over as if he, like poor Holmes earlier, was about to be sick. Trembling, white as a sheet, he'd fended his Companions off when they attempted to support him and managed to stagger over to the open shaft on his own.

The Time Lord slid down the lift wall to the floor, head tilted back, staring into space, his eyes wide and filled with anguish. "I didn't..." he whispered hoarsely, "didn't mean for that..." then drew a long, shuddering breath. "Didn't mean for that to happen."

An equally pale Holmes sat down wearily next to him, placing a gentle hand on the desolate alien's shoulder. "Of course not, Doctor," he murmured sadly. "We know you didn't... and just remember: the Daleks didn't, either. If it was all up to them, the outcome would also have been very different..."

The Doctor shuddered and nodded jerkily, then drew his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. "I know," he murmured.

The three men just sat there a minute longer, quietly gathering themselves – they all knew that they would need every ounce of remaining strength to face what awaited them below. Holmes caught his friend's eye, then flicked his gaze over to the Doctor beside him. Watson gave the detective a slight nod in return, understanding the unspoken message perfectly. Whatever the outcome, they each had a charge to protect, an arrangement the two Time Lords would doubtless disapprove of, if their human bodyguards had had any intentions of informing them...

Eventually, the Doctor raised his head, taking another deep breath, then pointed his sonic screwdriver at the lower corner of the lift, disengaging the emergency brake. The trio rose to their feet as the lift descended and solemnly shook hands. "Good luck, Holmes, Doctor," Watson smiled. "See you on the other side."

Holmes simply nodded, thankfully looking a great deal more composed. "And you, Watson."

The Doctor smiled weakly, his dark eyes still immeasurably sad. "I'll see _both_ of you back in the TARDIS within the half hour," he said quietly. "I don't know where you plan on going, but I'm not letting you go just yet."

Before either of his Companions could reply, the lift jolted to a stop, the doors opening once more onto the Dalek laboratory. The Doctor strode out with both humans following close behind, jaw tight, eyes blazing. Watson didn't blame him – his own fury was a burning knot in his gut as he took in the scene before them. Sec had been chained to the wall by his neck and wrists, the hybrid slumped forlornly, head bowed. As for Kit... Watson had no idea what the bloody hell those monsters had been doing to the poor child, but the fact that she was lying strapped to an operating table, apparently unconscious, and... Watson's breath caught – the young woman's skin was glowing _golden_.

The Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver, fiery gaze fixed on Caan, and pointed the device towards Kit, causing her restraints to pop open and the surrounding equipment to power down. Taking that as his cue, Watson started to move towards the table.

"Halt!" At Caan's command, Watson's path was blocked by what had to be the new Dalek soldiers.

Far too angry now to even feel remotely afraid, Watson shot a look of utter contempt back over his shoulder at the Dalek leader. "If you're really that worried about one unarmed human, go ahead and shoot! Until then, I have a duty to fulfill – you Daleks understand _that_ at least, don't you?"

Caan paused a long moment, seeming to consider the doctor's words. Finally... "Escort him."

His new guards shadowing him closely, Watson approached the table, shooting a venomous look at the hovering Major Barnes, voice quietly cold. "Report, _soldier_. What happened here?"

Barnes didn't so much snap to attention as stiffen uneasily, responding instinctively to the inherent authority in his fellow officer's tone. "Dr. Bennett's shoulder wound healed on its own, s –" cutting himself off. "Dalek Caan wanted to study the Time Lord use of regeneration."

"So he tortured her." The Doctor's voice was hard as steel.

Barnes glanced nervously at the monitors. "I think she's almost healed herself by this point. Sir." And as Watson watched, the golden glow slowly faded from Kit's body and disappeared.

The Doctor turned back to Caan with a murderous glare. "And _that's_ the foundation for a whole new civilization? A Time Lord tortured for _study_ –" all but spitting the word, "and the cleverest Dalek ever in chains and unable to help his own people?"

Watson glanced briefly at the monitors, more for show than anything else – knowing so little about Time Lord physiology meant he had to simply trust that her regeneration had done its work. Taking Kit's limp hand in his, Watson placed his other hand on her forehead as if to check for a fever. Renaissance Italy had taught the doctor firsthand how the TARDIS translated for her passengers; bending over Kit, he murmured in Hindustani, knowing it was most unlikely that Barnes or the Daleks knew the language as he did: "_If you can hear me, my dear, squeeze my hand."_

To his great relief, he felt a slight pressure on his fingers from Kit's; the young woman's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, a single tear slowly escaping.

"Planet Earth will become New Skaro, Doctor," Thay said. "Consider yourself privileged to have witnessed the beginning of this new age before you die!"

"No!" Sec had risen to his feet, straining against the manacles that held him. "My brothers, I beg you, don't! The Doctor can help you!"

"You are correct," Caan told him, sounding insufferably arrogant. "His blood will baptize our new army!"

The Doctor gazed sadly at Sec, then gave Caan a mirthless smirk. "Maybe it's time." He lifted his chin, spread his arms invitingly. "Come on, then." He looked Caan straight in the eyestalk. "Time to see what your people are made of."

"Warning," Jast called, "Dalek-Humans show increased levels of seratonin."

This time, however, his brother paid no heed. "Dalek-Humans, take aim!"

The hybrids raised their weapons, aiming them at the Doctor and Holmes, the detective making no move to leave the Time Lord's side. Holmes squared his shoulders and braced himself, gaze locking with Watson's across the room, steel and hazel meeting for what would seem to be the last time...

"Exterminate!"

There was an intense, dramatic moment... in which absolutely nothing happened.

"_Exterminate!" _Once again, Caan's order was ignored – the new hybrids weren't so much as twitching a trigger finger. "Obey. Dalek-Humans will obey!"

Watson allowed himself to relax a fraction of an inch. "Doctor," he murmured in wonder, noting the satisfied gleam in the Time Lord's otherwise neutral expression, "what did you do?"

"You will obey!" Caan barked at the nearest hybrid. "Exterminate!"

"Why?"

"Daleks do not question orders!"

The hybrid looked genuinely puzzled. "But why?"

"You must not question your master!" At any other time, Watson might have been tempted to laugh at the sheer aggravation in Caan's voice – the Dalek was sounding uncannily like one or two of his old school teachers.

"But... you are not our master," the hybrid responded slowly. "And we… we are _not_ Daleks."

The Doctor turned to the hybrids. "No, you're not," he said gently. "And you never will be." He turned back to Caan. "Sorry, I got in the way of things. Human DNA plus Dalek... plus Time Lord. Just enough freedom."

At that moment, Kit's eyes fluttered open, smiling exhaustedly up at Watson. "...hey..."

Watson smiled back in relief, although careful to stay alert to what was happening around them. "Can you move?" he whispered. "I think this situation is about to go downhill..."

Kit nodded slightly, an odd glint in her eyes. "Watch me."

"The Dalek-Humans are failures." Watson got the distinct impression that if Daleks could grind their teeth in fury, Caan would be doing it. "If they will not obey, then they must die!" _No_... The doctor's blood froze – how could even a Dalek be that merciless towards its own creations?!

"Destruct! Destruct! Des..."

"Caan," Kit called out, raising a hand. "You wanted the power of the Time Vortex? You got it!" Golden energy blasted from her palm and hit Caan's console, making it and the rest of the computers go berserk, sparks shooting from every instrument panel.

Caan screeched in pain as his armour shell began to vibrate rapidly, white-gold lightning arcing around him from eyestalk to base. "No! This cannot be! What have you done, female?!"

Kit shakily sat up, eyes gleaming, while her three companions – particularly the Doctor – could only stare in awe. "Tip for you, love: _never_ mess with a regenerating Time Lord. The TARDIS is the only machine in the universe that can handle the Time Vortex running through her. And my name is _Katherine_ - don't you ever forget it."

"_EX-TER-MIN...!_" Caan's scream of fear and rage was cut short as the overload to his armour reached the point of no return, the top half exploding in a ball of flame and smoke and twisted metal.

Kit's hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide in what a stunned Watson hoped was horror – he couldn't have wished such a gruesome end on even his worst enemy.

The last two Daleks recoiled, clearly stunned, which unfortunately didn't last more than a moment. "She has killed Dalek Caan!" And Watson didn't need to be a soldier to know where this would end. Hastily, he scooped Kit up in his arms and took cover in what little shelter the table provided, shielding the young woman as best he could.

"Destroy the Time Lords! Destroy them all! Exterminate!"

"_EXTERMINATE!_"

* * *

Well, _this_ was a situation that had disintegrated rapidly. The Doctor dropped to the floor as both pure and hybrid Daleks began to exchange fire, pulling Holmes down with him. He pointed the sonic at Sec's chains, which popped open a second later and allowed him to duck for cover.

"Thay! Jast!" the Doctor shouted. "Stop! Stop this now! You'll get yourselves killed!"

Neither side paid him any heed, and some of the hybrids had been cut down already. Thay was the Dalek who'd sacrificed some of his panels for the conductor, and the hybrids' fire penetrated his armour. His shell burst open and into flames.

Sec gave an anguished cry—the Doctor glanced in his direction and saw horror in his eye. So human now…

The Doctor's chest ached sharply, abruptly dizzy with memories of the Time War flashing, unbidden, past his mind's eye, as they had in the lift. And then the bodies… the bodies in the corridor, the soldiers Holmes and Watson had killed. He'd made them do that. He'd made them… he couldn't breathe…

Then, as if in a nightmare, he saw Sec rise, a grim purpose in his expression, and rush forward to shield Jast, whose gunstick had just been destroyed. "_Stop!_" Sec shouted. "My children, plea—" His plea ended in a strangled cry of pain as three or more bullets ripped through his torso.

The Doctor heard two voices scream "NO!"… and realised they were his own and Kit's.

Sec collapsed, gasping for breath. The shooting stopped.

Both Time Lords ran to Sec, the Doctor raising his head and shoulders in an effort to let him breathe easier. "Brave man," the Doctor murmured, then looked up solemnly at Jast. "Now what?"

"Sec… shiel-ded…" Jast's voice sounded wounded, confused, not unlike another lonely Dalek the Doctor had once met, in another lifetime… "Ex-plain…"

Sec winced in pain and tried to smile. "You are… still… my brother. Our children… need you…"

"Ne-ga-tive." The filtered voice took on a desperate note. "We are… not the same… I am… the last pure Da-lek… in ex-ist-ence!"

"Yes, you are," the Doctor said softly. "But just because you're the last… doesn't mean it has to be the end." Then he felt another rise in Vortex energy…

But this one was so much smaller than before.

Kit's hand was raised, golden fire flickering around it, her hazel eyes wide and bright with unshed tears. She grimaced as she tried desperately to call up one last offering of regenerative energy.

She wasn't going to make it. Not in time.

"You are not… alone, brother…" Sec's dimming eye held more love than anyone would ever have thought possible for a Dalek. "If you choose… never alone…" His gaze turned to Kit. "Dr. Bennett… I am… so sorry about… your friend…" His eye began to close.

Kit was crying silently. "Sec, please don't… Don't…" She took his hand in both of hers; his weak smile widened a little. "You were something no Dalek has ever been before. You were _good_."

The hybrids had drawn closer, their silent presence respectful.

"And," Sec breathed, "I hope… not… the last…" His body relaxed, eye closing, lines of pain smoothing out.

Kit bowed her head, trembling.

The Doctor closed his eyes, laid his hand over Sec's, and whispered a Gallifreyan blessing. He rarely did that, but this… this was definitely… He looked back up at Jast, silently begging this last pure Dalek to show that he was more than that. "Your brother was right," he said gravely: "your people need you. They need a leader… not another tyrant." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Please. Help them."

Jast said nothing for a long moment, then… "Emergency Temporal Shift!" He disappeared in a shimmer of blue light.

The Doctor closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath in the certainty that he would see Jast again. After all, there was the future that Kit had experienced already, waiting to happen for him…

The Time Lady lifted her head and gazed around her in awe and concern at the hybrid people, still recognisably Dalek but less so than Sec. The Doctor smiled weakly at her and took her hand, squeezing it. "Well, then," he murmured. "We've got a lot of work to do."

Suddenly, Holmes was up and stalking away... after Major Barnes, who was trying to slip away to the lift. Holmes knocked the man to the ground and pinned him—and Sherlock Holmes might not have been a soldier, but the man was _strong_. "My sympathies, Major," he murmured—"at least a firing squad would have been mercifully swift..."

The Doctor glanced down at Kit's hand, small and slender, in his own, the baby-soft skin of a Time Lady who had just undergone significant healing... And he released that hand and surged to his feet, striding over to Holmes and his prisoner. "Major Barnes," he said in a low tone.

"Doctor, they would have ki—"

"And the idea to dissect me or experiment on Dr. Bennett was all theirs, eh?" the Doctor said sharply. He dropped to one knee and looked the coward in the eye. "Of _course_, they would have killed you if you hadn't cooperated, but your cooperation was hardly coerced. All you wanted was power."

Barnes gave up his act and sneered. "That's what this war is all about, Doctor: power, pure and simple, no matter who wins. That's what this entire site is about. It's not to make the Japs surrender—it's to hold the winning hand over any country on Earth."

The Doctor stood, ice in his gaze. "In that case," he said, voice casual, "I think it's only fair that you experience the same sort of fate as Dalek Caan."

* * *

**Author's note from Sky:** This episode grew progressively harder and harder to write. Sec's death... was not an easy thing to do. "Evolution of the Daleks" is actually a very emotional episode for me, and it's because of Sec and his children... We thought that maybe we might be able to pull him through _this_ story... and then he chose otherwise. Made us both cry.

(I have to say that I want a big round of applause for Ria, because she's the one who's been handling the entire Cult of Skaro and she's done a brilliant job! Jast's reaction to Sec's sacrifice is so painful...)

I also have to say that everybody's concern for Kit was very wonderful, because I did wonder how much we'd be able to get our audience to care about her. Thanks so much, guys, and please keep those feels coming!

**Author's note from Ria:** Something Sky and I both hated about the original episodes was the genocide of the new hybrids. Sure, it makes sense that the Cult of Skaro would do that, sort of – but we thought it stank that their whole race was right back to Square One in terms of physical or emotional evolution, regardless of Caan's later journey etc. So, since this series is an AU anyway, the universe is now also going to have to contend with a very different breed of Dalek – and we just might see more of them in future, too! ;)

(And once again, Sky's forgetting to give herself any credit! All Ten fans out there, raise your sonics in salute to her magnificent portrayal of the _two_ Time Lords!)


	7. Katherine

**==Chapter Seven: Katherine==**

_"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but, vice versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things or make them unimportant."_

The Doctor didn't often clean up after himself. On Satellite Five, he'd experienced firsthand what a terrible mistake that could be. But cleaning up after _this_ particular adventure... that took some doing. And it started with Major Barnes.

* * *

Even had Barnes not involved himself with Kit, the Doctor still would not have been inclined to be lenient. The Daleks may have been the ones to kidnap humans and turn them into empty shells, but they were _Daleks_. All traces of a conscience had been genetically removed from their DNA millennia ago. Not until Sec had joined with a human had he known better.

Barnes had no such excuse. He had helped the Daleks murder people—no matter how innocent or how guilty any of them may have been of other crimes, very few beings deserved the fate they'd experienced. And _then_ Barnes had helped Caan torture a young Time Lady for _study_.

So Holmes contacted Lieutenant Adams to sort out the paperwork for Barnes's 'honourable discharge'. The two Time Lords were of the same mind regarding his punishment: admittance to a mental hospital in Hiroshima.

"Doctor, no, please!" Barnes cried, eyes wide with terror.

"Oh, cheer up, Barnes," the Doctor replied coolly. "You've got a better chance than most of the people in here. Three weeks, soldier—three weeks to convince them to let you out. Good luck." He turned on his heel and strode away, ignoring the man's pleas. How many others had similarly begged the Daleks for mercy before they were stripped of their souls?

His stride quickly became a run. If he stopped for just one moment, he knew he would go back and strangle Barnes. He was that furious.

* * *

It didn't take long, either, to find the hybrid Daleks a new homeworld—a verdant world devoid of sapient life, perfect for a race starting over. Getting everyone into the TARDIS took some doing, though: they stripped as much technology from the lab as they could, and then they loaded everyone and everything. Even the slave soldiers came—they were essentially organic machines, and they no longer had a purpose.

Now, their purpose would be to aid the hybrid race.

But at last, they were off. Many of the hybrids gazed around them in wonder at their "bigger on the inside" surroundings. Kit conversed quietly with some of them. They were largely without personality just yet—that would develop over time. Essentially, they were all babies—just ones who could think and speak like adults.

When they landed, Kit sidled over to the Doctor and murmured, "I think we've got a name for them."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? What?"

"Manhatians."

It was strangely perfect.

Sec was put to rest on a pyre. The Doctor repeated his Gallifreyan blessing in English for the benefit of all gathered—that Time, whose memory was fickle, would never forget this man, would keep his memory bright and untarnished... Kit held him close as they watched the body burn, its ashes rising to the stars. She was so young... still a child. And Sec's death hurt her—he fervently hoped that such tragedies would always hurt her...

* * *

Some prisoners were still left in their cells, mercifully still one hundred percent human. But when the Doctor and his Companions (Kit was already included in that group) returned to them, they were half-crazed with fear. Some had gone fully catatonic.

Kit turned to the Doctor, expression earnest—and he didn't have to link with her mind to know what she was thinking. She wanted to link with _theirs_. She wanted to take that fear away.

"Have you done this before?" he murmured.

"I've _had_ to."

So the Time Lords connected with each mind, locking away the memories, the terror... and sending them to sleep. It would take a helluva lot now to reawaken all that, and the Time Lords made sure to put in safeguards, just in case. The former prisoners would wake up with no memory of their ordeal, and if they ever _did_ remember, they would simply faint and revive with no knowledge of what had just happened.

* * *

The final step in clean-up was... well, the _real_ clean-up. The lab was largely barren, but it still _existed_, and there were corpses everywhere. Upon landing back at the base, the Doctor put in an anonymous call to Roswell—Kit had explained that it was an American affiliate of Torchwood.

He gave his 'tip' and hung up, then turned to his Companions. "We're done now," he said quietly.

Kit slipped her hand into his, the touch warm and comforting. "We're just beginning," she murmured.

They were. A new hybrid race were beginning their lives on an untouched world, far away, and a young Time Lady had stepped forward. Old things had been infused with fresh life.

He smiled at her and nodded at the TARDIS doors. "_Allons-y_, then."

* * *

Holmes and Watson strolled back across the compound after bidding a grateful farewell to Lt. Adams, leaving the young man standing in the shadows, staring wonderingly at the TARDIS. The lady evidently felt that Adams had earned the right to watch their departure – quite the spectacle in itself, as Holmes could attest to.

"So that's what he meant, the Face of Boe?" Watson murmured as he watched the two Time Lords standing together, deep in conversation. "'You are not alone.'"

Holmes shrugged, smiling faintly. He had to admit that, after all the trauma and heartbreak of the last 24 hours, the look of renewed hope in the Doctor's eyes was a most welcome sight. "Who can say? One thing seems fairly certain, however: we will meet Dr. Bennett again one day."

Watson visibly brightened, although giving Holmes a curious look. "I'm certainly not against the prospect, Holmes – but what makes you so sure?"

Holmes arched an eyebrow. "My dear Watson, I would have thought, after that fiasco with Queen Elizabeth, the answer must be plain as day." He sighed as Watson's expression remained puzzled. "The young lady..." and Holmes decided to stick with that identifier – compared to the Doctor, Kit was little more than an adolescent. "The young lady is a time traveller as well, her past is our future..."

Watson's eyes widened, finally comprehending. "Good Lord! So that means our next encounter could be our _first_ meeting, for her..." His lips pursed in a silent whistle.

Holmes smiled fondly at the reaction. Good old Watson... It might seem childish naïveté to some, but the doctor's inherent sense of wonder was in truth a gift, one which the detective dearly hoped his friend would always possess. The day that _Watson_ became disenchanted with time travel, Holmes vowed, was the day they would return home to Baker Street once and for all.

* * *

The Doctor shoved his hand into his pockets, feeling... strangely satisfied. Jast was still out there, somewhere, somewhen, and Sec was gone, and so many had died. But still... still, the story could have ended much more tragically.

"Weeell, Dr. Bennett..." He smiled at her. "Are you sure you don't want to come along?"

Her answering smile was small and sad, longing burning in her eyes. "I would like nothing more... but time enough for that later, Doctor. I've got some things to wrap up here, including my position. I'm going back to London."

He frowned. "Why?"

She pursed her lips briefly. "Because Barnes was right—right about this bomb being a power-play, which is what I was actually here to ascertain."

"The British government is spying on one of its allies?"

She smirked slightly. "No, no. Just keeping tabs." Her expression faded to weariness. "Besides... I want to go home."

He nodded slowly—certainly couldn't fault her for that. He couldn't stand being in any one place other than the TARDIS for very long, but he also understood that most people weren't like that. And she was still a kid. All Time Lords needed their roots around their first century. Of course, he still didn't know where exactly her roots lay... "Well, just remember—the offer stands."

Kit laughed softly—it was the first he'd heard her laugh, and the warm sound was achingly familiar.

The Doctor shook his head. Meeting a Companion out of order definitely didn't happen often, and, really, it was a bit disconcerting, having someone who knew about his future before it had happened for him... He drew closer. Holmes and Watson were standing off a little ways, but still... "Before we go, though... will you tell me who you are?"

She took a shuddering breath, as if praying for strength but nodded and withdrew a locket from beneath her collar. She opened it and held it up for him.

He squinted at the tiny photos for a moment... But... that was... was that... she was... Eyes wide, he glanced up at her, then back at the locket, then back up at her. "But..."

Nodding, she smiled—a smile that blossomed across her face and lit her eyes. "Mm-hmm."

She was really... Oh. Oh, that was _beyond_ brilliant. Over a millennium of travelling across Time and Space, and this had to be just about the best. He straightened, beaming. "Well... hello, _Katherine_."

She laughed again. "Hello, Doctor."

The only question now was: _how_ had he been thick enough not to see it before? It explained so much... "Ah..." Giving up on the answer to that, he threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "You brilliant thing, you."

Smiling, she leant up and kissed him on the cheek. "See you around, Doctor." She stepped back, then returned to the TARDIS, stroking the doorframe lovingly. She kissed it and whispered, "Farewell, love. Keep him safe."

He felt his girl's gentle affirmative. Of course, she'd known all along, and the Doctor was starting to wonder if she hadn't landed them there right when Katherine had quite possibly been wishing for his help...

* * *

Kit stepped back over to Watson and Holmes, her smile warm yet wistful. "Take care, you two."

Holmes returned the smile, bowing slightly. "And you also, Dr. Bennett – it has truly been an honour. Until we meet again..." then, to Watson's mild surprise, walked over to where the Doctor was standing. He was grateful for the consideration, however – Kit's head was lowered once more as she turned to him, but the little he could see of her face concerned him deeply.

"Goodbye, D-doctor Watson..." she murmured, "and... good luck."

Watson gazed sadly at Kit, wishing with all his heart that he knew how to comfort her – whoever she really was, it was plain that this farewell was hurting her terribly. He had to repress a sudden, odd impulse to put his arms around the young Time Lady – such behaviour might be appropriate from the Doctor, but Watson didn't dare follow suit without knowing how she'd perceive it. "Never mind me, my dear," he said gently. "Will you be all right?"

Kit opened her mouth to respond, then stopped herself, taking a shuddering breath. "Not going to follow the Doctor's example this time..." Her hazel eyes met his for a brief instant, then just as quickly lowered again. "No... I won't be. Not just yet."

Watson's esteem for the young woman went up several notches – having travelled with the Doctor, he could well appreciate the courage it took to make such an admission. Torn between concern and caution, he hesitated only a moment longer before deciding: she didn't have to answer, after all, and if this was the last time they would meet in her timeline...

"I probably shouldn't ask... but the first time you meet me... is there... _was_ there anything... you needed me to tell you?" His brow furrowed in confusion – he'd meant to ask if there was anything she'd needed to know... but somewhere between brain and mouth, the question had altered itself.

Kit covered her mouth as a sobbing laugh escaped, this time managing to meet his gaze. "When I first meet you... you won't even know..." She swallowed hard, blinking. "But don't worry – you'll tell me _exactly_ what I'll need to hear."

Watson's relief was tempered greatly by Kit's anguished expression, and he decided that, on this occasion, dignity could go hang itself. "Well, whatever that may be, Kit," he said earnestly, "let me tell you this now: that, despite the circumstances, I am extremely proud and honoured to have met you... and I wish you every joy for the future." He smiled at her warmly, unsurprised to find his own eyes growing moist. "Godspeed, my dear." Nor was he overly shocked when Kit stepped forward and all but threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly; deeply touched, Watson returned the embrace willingly for several moments, before finally, reluctantly letting her go.

Kit took another shuddering breath and mustered up a brave smile, mouth quietly forming the words '_Thank you'_. She turned and headed back towards the Doctor... but stopped before Holmes and held out her hand. "You weren't going to get away without my giving you a proper goodbye," she said quietly.

Holmes took her proffered hand in his and bowed over it, smiling. "Goodbye, dear lady... and thank you. I look forward to our further acquaintance." And from Holmes, Watson knew, the young woman could not have received a greater compliment.

Kit smiled fondly, eyes shining at the kind words. "Goodbye, Mr. Holmes, and thank _you_..." she breathed, then to Watson's dismay, the light faded rapidly from her face, her eyes filled with pain as she stepped aside to stand before the Doctor again.

* * *

Oh, dear God, this was killing her. She wanted nothing more than to rush back into the TARDIS, hold on and never let go... Katherine returned to the Doctor, who was definitely misty-eyed. He knew. At least, he knew in part.

"See you later, milady," he murmured.

She gave him one last hug. "Doctor," she murmured back, "I'm sorry... everything changes soon." This was still the early days for them, that much was evident, and _it_ wouldn't happen for months in their timeline. But months to a Time Lord... "Not yet, but soon."

He pulled back and looked her in the eye, clearly apprehensive. It hurt, bringing back that look, almost like a wounded wild creature... but she couldn't let them go without saying anything at all. She couldn't. They were all so carefree still... young... innocent... and no hearts had been broken yet...

"Katherine..."

She shook her head. "Shh. Spoilers enough for now. Now..." She managed a watery smile, never mind that ache in her chest. "Go back to your Companions, Doctor: I think they're _quite_ ready for another adventure."

The Doctor smiled again, apparently willing for the moment to let the thought of the distant future go in favor of the far brighter near future. She certainly couldn't begrudge him that. He gave her one last brief hug, then jogged back to meet his boys and reenter the TARDIS. "You heard the Lady, boys: _allons-y!_" He gave her an excited wave as he disappeared inside.

His Companions were close behind, his human colleague smiling fondly back at her one last time, raising a hand in farewell. She raised her hand in turn and held the position as the TARDIS dematerialised.

Once the TARDIS disappeared completely, she sagged as if her strings had been cut. _And maybe they have been._.. She covered her mouth and sobbed, suddenly drowning. Oh, God, she couldn't... she couldn't handle this...

A light touch on her shoulder made her start. "Kit..." Sean Adams. "Can I help?"

She turned to him and lowered her hand, unable to make the words come in anything but a scream... So she let her gaze say what she couldn't: she was impossibly lonely and she needed someone to hold her...

He moved nearer and wordlessly put his arms around her. She melted into his embrace, all defences undone by his kindness, and clung to him. The turn of the earth beneath her feet and she could feel it... and this was her holding on, not letting go. She buried her face in his shoulder as deep, choking sobs were wrenched from her gut, and still he held her. She let the grief, the loneliness, have its time, and he held her through it.

They stood there like that for a long while.

**To Be Continued...**

**in Episode Five: "The Icarus Experiment"**

* * *

**Author's note from Ria:** Sorry, everyone, we hate to end on such a sad note, but none of you – or the travellers – know the things Kit knows about what's coming... Oh dear, are we keeping you all in suspense? *evil chuckle* Splendid...

**Author's note from Sky:** Nor, of course, do you know who Kit actually is! No, we're not telling yet, but we will. In the meantime, we have another TARDISode coming, but don't expect this one to be happy in any way whatsoever...


End file.
